Beautiful Enigma
by MalkennaRules 2036
Summary: Since the particle accelerator explosion nine months ago the inexplicable is normal to new superhero, Barry Allen that is until a 16-year-old girl is dropped off at star labs by his childhood enemy. She is his …! Barry soon discovers that life is a beautiful enigma and a whole lot more complex than he bargained for! Takes place in season one Au
1. Big Changes

Chapter 1: The Greatest Impossibility

I sit at the table in this crowded fancy restaurant with my family listening to my dad tell the story of how he got my mom to go out on a first date with him. It takes everything in my power, not to burst out laughing hysterically at my father's over dramatic retelling of the events. That's my father class clown turned CEO of Kelsey drive industries. My father's company is one of the top technology industries in the world.

We are here to celebrate the anniversary of my adoption or my Got you day, every single year my parents make a big deal out of this event. They both take off work I get to skip school (my favorite part). We go shopping, go to a movie do anything I like and then go to the fanciest restaurant in town, and eat dinner and I get a huge slice of cake to myself. I wish they wouldn't make such a big fuss out of me, but at the same time I kind of like it. I am finishing my food and listening to dad tell stories of his glory days, drawing blood from my lips and sitting on my hands to avoid a full out laugh attack. Mom just smiles and rolls her eyes every few minutes when dad starts the story of the time he put a snake in his high school principal's office. I know I am sunk, but to my surprise, it is my mother who breaks first, her warm laughter filling the room. I join in, and the laughter becomes a cackling, we are receiving looks from all over the room, but mom and I don't care, and from the looks of dad, he doesn't either. It is only after our waiter comes back with the bill and tells us that we have to leave do we realize what we have done. We've gotten kicked out of the restaurant.

Dad holds the door for us as I drive out in my wheelchair out into the cold air. The three of us are still completely absorbed in laughter until we hear "good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Ross" being said in a voice that sounds like a computerized AI instead of human. Wait a second. I know that voice, but no, it can't be him, he is not real.

My parents turn around to face him quickly, I on the other hand, turn around as slowly as possible, barely moving my joystick controller on my power wheelchair. I don't know why, but I don't want to see who is on the other side, but it's not like I can stand here indefinitely until he goes away and the fact that he is stopped talking makes me guess that he won't continue until I turn around, so I should just turn around. Okay, here it goes, three… two… one.

I freeze the second I see him, my blood has turned to ice water. My invisible monster, the one that used to hide me in my nightmares. The man in the yellow suit. I can't see his eyes, but I feel the weight of his focused unbroken gaze on me. "Hello, Mallory, it's nice to see you again." This is impossible. He is a figment of my imagination. Nothing more, or at least that's what I'm telling myself as I'm trying to break out of the sugar induced hallucination.

"I'm confused. Do we know you?" My mother asked the man. I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to tell her to stop because I know that wherever this is going, it's not going to be good.

My bad feeling is confirmed when he moves with incredible speed to where my mother is standing. There are only inches between them. "Mallory has to pay." He states simply, his voice booming and shaking with fury. This is just like the dream which means what's going to come next is going to be ugly very extremely ugly.

"Pay for what?" My mother asks, staring him directly in the face, not moving, not backing down. Her lips are pursed, but she is meeting his even gaze with a firm stare, the one she only uses when she's especially angry. My heart starts beating faster and faster, she takes a step closer. They are even "tell me exactly what my daughter has to pay for," he is quiet a small smirk playing on his lips as he shakes his head. My mother does not let up the intensity of her gaze, if anything, it increases _drop it, just drop it_. I silently pray, knowing that the only way this will and is with him getting what he wants, but I can hope and pray that it doesn't involve anyone else just me. However, my prayers do not seem to get the answer. I was hoping for, as my mother utters a firm command "now!"

As I hear her command hang in the cool night air, and seem to echo and reverberate across every square inch of the street, clarity hit me like a bullet in my brain. This was all about my father, my other father, the one we never mention at least not out loud. The one that we all forgot about. When I was little, I would pretend I would make believe and imagine what he was like, you see one of the beauties of not knowing is they can be anything you want them to be. For years I dreamed and imagined, and had recurring nightmares about a man in a yellow suit and my dad. I eventually grew up and my fantasies slowly faded away as I accepted reality. I moved on, I became a big girl. I let the past go, however, seeing the man in the yellow suit tonight made it abundantly undoubtedly, and earth shatteringly clear that I haven't forgotten anything.

"My dad." I say, breaking the long heavy silence. It effectively cuts through it like a knife. The way my mom is staring at my dad with anger and confusion makes me want to clarify "my other dad," I say quickly as if it is a curse word, fearing my parent's reaction as well as my own. My parents look betrayed and horrified at the same time. It is incredibly painful for them to hear and for me say, but that is the clear truth.

Their reaction is what I expect. I am not, however, prepared for the man in the yellow suit's reaction. He laughs and smiles slightly. "Congratulations Mrs. Ross, your daughter is clever, very clever." He tells her before taking a step back half a millisecond later he is in front of me. "Just like I remember you. You are always exactly how I remember you." He says. A smile, mixed with a smirk plays on his face as he puts his hand gently on my cheek almost lovingly as he uses his hand to make me turn my head so he can examine it. After he has seen both sides, and it from almost every angle he can without hurting me. He smirks and whispers, "perfect" smugly, "always perfect." He repeats.

He backs away from me, "Mallory. I truly wish you were not a part of this, that you did not have to be a part of this." He says, and sighs sadly. "However you are a part of your father, a part of his legacy, and that makes you very much a part of it." He says, pointing at me. "And I bet you're wondering why don't I just kill you." He continues, I wasn't thinking about that until now. "The answer is because I can't, I can't kill you because your father needs you to be the something that he will fight for and I need him to do that because I need him to get home. I need Barry Allen to be a hero so as much as I'd love to kill you and your father. I can't." He explains to me. My question is why do bad guys always monologue.

"Do you understand?" I nod. "Good." He says, before his smile turns sinister. "I can however cause you a great deal of pain." He says as he steps closer to me. He pulls out a knife which I have no idea where he had that in that suit. He takes the blade and presses it ever so lightly against my cheek, "I could stab you in so many different ways. He says. "But I'm not going to do that." He puts a rag on my cheek to wipe away the blood. "I'm going to do something much worse sweetheart, hold that there." He instructs me. I do as I am told, then he says, "emotional pain is always worse." And with that he takes a knife and stabs my mother in the stomach.

He returns to me. I start to cry, "it's okay sweetheart, come on, be a big girl." He says as he stabs me in the back wonderful new scars to go over my old ones! "Sweetheart, you don't look well at all. How about you let me carry you to see your daddy?" He patronizes me with a laugh

The last thing I see is his face in the mask.

Cisco's point of view

"Barry, we've got a confirmed sighting of a yellow suit on Alastair and Ninth." I say into the intercom." The man in the yellow suit has been our number one target since Barry became The Flash because he killed Barry's mother, but this is the first time we've actually had a confirmed sighting. Barry is already out on account of The Mist showing up. Caitlin is in the other part of the building, studying some thermonuclear fusion notes to determine how this will affect the environment of Central City in the following years, and Dr. Wells left for coffee about 20 minutes ago. Which leaves me on monitor duty. The man in the yellow suit has left "27 and Grayson" I update him. "71 and Godfree " I say. Wait a second, it almost looks like _what the frack?!_ _He's coming here!_ "Umm... Barry, he's coming here," I say, trying not to show the panic in my voice, but it wasn't working. My voice went up the whole octave.

"What? How? Are you sure? Why?" Barry asks, sounding frustrated and confused.

"I don't know man," I say honestly panic rising in my voice. "Just hurry up and get here by my calculations, you've got…" I am so bad at mental calculations. I can never figure them out.

"Zero seconds" I hear a voice say behind me. I turn around and scream. He laughs. "Hello Cisco" no way he did not just say my name. How does he know my name?

"Chill dude, why are you here?" He gives me a look like I don't have the authority to ask him that question and my "macho man" superhero persona crumbles and quickly raise my hands above my head, and assume the classic "surrender" position. "Don't hurt me." I beg, "please," I say embarrassed and feeling very much like a coward.

He laughs. "Get down on the floor." He orders and I do as I'm told, "interlace your fingers." He orders again and they do as I'm told, he laughs again. This time however, it is much warmer. "Cisco, relax. I am only here to drop something off." He says, through the laughter. I lift my head to see a young woman in his arms, she is completely still in his arms., her pale skin the color of porcelain, her long, curly hair was the color of melted dark chocolate, her lips were red. She was wearing a white lace dress silently he lays her beside me. She is the classic embodiment of Snow White, but instead of being poisoned by an apple, she has been stabbed with a knife. The knife is in her back, more specifically the knife is in her shoulder blade. The man in the yellow suit kneels down beside her. He grabs the hilt of the knife, _oh please don't tell me he's going to_ I think to myself and with one fluid motion, he yanks it out of her. Her eyes open and she screams. I have never heard a scream like that in my life, as more blood comes out of the wound staining her dress.

He leaves her and walks over to me. "I bet you're wondering who she is, aren't you?" I nod slowly he smiles before turning to face the girl. His eyes wander across her body before resting on her eyes, he kneels beside her and touches her cheek. She looks up at him with just a hint of fear. He gently takes his thumb and runs it across her cheek. "This beautiful girl is Barry Allen's daughter." He says, turning back to face me with a satisfied smirk at my dumbfounded expression. _It can't be that's not possible. He is too young to have a daughter that old._ I think to myself.

"That's not possible. You are lying to me, that's biologically impossible." I stammer out loud.

He smirks, "Cisco you live in a world with two men that are faster than the speed of light. A man that can control the weather, and a man that can turn himself into a toxic mist. Nothing is impossible." He says, before breaking into hysterical laughter. This guy is totally a deranged mentally unstable psychopath, but he does have a point. "But believe whatever you want, test her DNA against his, and it will prove I'm not lying."

"Let's say that hypothetically, I believe you how did this happen?" I ask. I'm intrigued that the prospect might be true.

He rolls his eyes. "That's for you to figure out, "he says dryly, he bows mockingly towards me before continuing, "now if you will excuse me, I've got somewhere to be, plans to make Cisco, big plans, but this was fun, we will have to do it again sometime" He says sinisterly he faces the door and looks back at the girl on the floor who is presumably Barry's daughter. "And please do tell, Mallory, that I am very sorry," he says in a tone that makes me almost believe him before he speeds out of the room.

Five minutes later, Caitlin and Dr. Wells show up. "What happened, why are you on the floor and who is the girl?" They both ask me, as soon as they see the situation in front of them.

Giving them the answers to all those questions would take too long. "Long story, all you need to know is her name is Mallory and she needs our help." I say. The longer I thought about the man in the yellow suit explanation of who she was the more sense it made. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time.

"Okay, the first thing we need to do is get her off the floor. Can you help me with that?" She asks, directing her question at me. I nod as I get myself off the floor myself. I bend down and lift her as carefully as I can, not wanting to hurt Barry's daughter because something tells me he will be a very protective dad, especially when he finds out who did this to her. I'm pretty sure the man in the yellow suit, just signed his own death warrant. I place her in the bed. Caitlin looks satisfied, "perfect now you can explain the long story to Dr. Wells and me while I take care of her. I really was hoping I could wait to relive that trauma until later, but okay, sure great. Let's relive that traumatic event that just happened.

I take a deep breath and walk into the center of the room. "Since you all ditched me. I was all alone on monitor duty." I say melodramatically, I hear laughing and turn my head to the side to see Caitlin and Dr. wells rolling their eyes at me. "Anyway, I heard from the police radio that there was a confirmed sighting of the man in the yellow suit" I can tell by the amount of silence in the room that I have successfully gotten their attention satisfied with that, I continue my story "so I told Barry and tracked the man in the yellow suit as I was tracking him, I began to realize that the pattern he was moving in meant he was coming here, I told Barry. The man in the yellow suit showed up with her in his arms, he laid her down, since some really creepy, totally super villain type stuff told me who she was and then left." I say, omitting the part where I screamed like a girl and begged for my life.

"Well, the stabbing would explain the lacerations on her shoulder, but it doesn't account for the three other scars on her back that appear to be from a knife of some sort. They are 10 years old at least or the one from what I'm assuming is a gun in the middle of her sternum. Bottom line, it looks like she's been in a lot of high intensity situations, most of which ended with her receiving some kind of physical injury." Caitlin says, sounding very doctor like "by the way who is she? You said he told you, but you never said who she was." She reminds me.

I freeze _there is no way the man in the yellow suit was telling the truth, right?_ It's true, we live in a world full of impossible stuff and things that could definitely be classified as "abnormal." But this could be it's too crazy. It's not even our version of _normal_ and yes, before you ask, I do recognize that many saying something is way too out there being hypocritical, but it's just not true! _What's next pigs flying?_ Wait a second, that would be really cool. "I have no idea." I say, because truly in what world where the alternative make sense.

"But you said." Caitlin starts reminding me, she is a really good listener, which makes lying to her really hard and this situation very annoying.

"I know what I said, Caitlin, but I forgot just drop it. Okay," I say hotly wanting to forget about the whole situation.

At that moment Barry flashes into the room. "Hey guys, I'm sorry it took so long on my way back here. I stumbled upon the scene of a stabbing and then I had to call Joe and Eddie and wait for them to arrive so I could give my statement and do my forensic science thing and then get back here." He says quickly, completely oblivious to what is going on and then he slows down when he realizes that Caitlin and I are arguing about something. "Hey, what's wrong? Did he hurt you?" Barry asked suddenly concerned, Caitlin and I shake our heads no, he relaxes, but only slightly. "Then what is it?" Caitlin and I turn to look at the girl who is still unconscious Barry follows our line of sight and finds her "who is she?" He asks, sounding confused and worried.

I let Caitlin answer that one. "We don't know." She says simply, before adding, "The Man in the Yellow Suit dropped her off and she had been stabbed, presumably by him." She finishes her account of the events. The mention of The Man in the Yellow Suit earns an immediate reaction from Barry. "He brought her here?" Caitlin nodded, not wanting to repeat the information again. He looks frustrated. "And we don't know who she is?" Once again, Caitlin nods yes, I can see his frustration increasing "but it doesn't make sense. He wouldn't just kidnap and stab a random girl and bring her here, we need to find out who she is." I agree that he wouldn't just do this sort of thing to a random girl. It's not his style. And I can tell by Caitlin's expression that she agrees.

"We will Mr. Allen, I promise. But first you have to calm down and stop hitting things." Dr. Wells says gently and calmly to Barry, who takes a deep breath and nods.

"Okay, Dr. Wells, I'm sorry I will try to avoid hitting things from now on." Barry apologizes for his outburst.

"It's quite all right, Barry, all is forgiven." Dr. Wells says, smiling a melancholy smile at him.

Barry's phone rang. "Hey Joe... What?! Okay, thanks." Barry says as he hangs up. "The victims of the stabbing were Duane and Marie Ross as in Duane Ross of Kelsey Drive Industries, and apparently they had a daughter named Mallory, who is missing and matches her description." Barry states, "but that still doesn't explain why he took her and attacked them. It's never been about the money for him, at least not to my knowledge anyway." He finishes, sounding slightly broken.

"I'll check state records to see what I can find. Maybe she's connected to him in some other way that we will be able to find there." I offer Barry nods slowly within 20 seconds I am in the state 's computer system, which concern me but at the same time makes me proud of myself. Once I get to the Rosses records. I find a multitude of police reports that either list Mallory as the main witness for the prosecution or a victim. It would take me an eternity to read all them and I don't have that kind of time on my hands, Barry needs answers so I elect to ignore all of them, at least for now and click on the most interesting thing I see on the screen _. Her adoption record_ "it might be nothing, but it might be something she was adopted immediately after she was born. The only problem is that it is a closed adoption so I can't see to her parents are or were her real parents. I mean," I say triumphantly at the fact that I may have got something.

"All parents are real parents." Dr. Wells says scolding me.

"I could perform a DNA test." Caitlin volunteers getting up from her seat and grabbing a needle. "I need to do a blood test, anyway." Caitlin adds as she takes the sample from Mallory and putting it in the machine.

Barry's point of View.

I get up and walk over to Mallory standing at the foot of the bed. "Why you?! Who are you?!" I ask her quietly hear her only response is the rise and fall of her breathing and I smile a little. She is pretty and she's probably nice. She doesn't deserve this, a machine beeps and it pulls me from my thoughts. "Time to find out who you are Mallory" I say to her Caitlin reads the results and throws them in the trash says something about the machine malfunctioning runs the test again. She read the results throws them in the trash again and runs the test yet again by the fourth time this cycle repeats. I say "Caitlin stop it. It's obviously not the machine. If you keep getting the same results."

I've done it now she storms into the room with the results in her hand. "But these results don't make any sense. They say that you're the father!" she exclaims practically throwing the results into my hands.

"What?!" I say. She just points down at the papers in my hands authoritatively. Sure enough, there it is in big black letters, Barry Allen 50% match Nora Allen, 25% match. This means I am a father, more specifically, her father. That's what this means. And I know what this means, but how is this true, but it doesn't make any sense, at least by normal standards, and if I'm being honest, it really doesn't make sense by anyone's standards. I mean there's only a 10-year age gap, maybe even less, but I have the proof right here in my hand. Still, it does not make the truth any easier to digest. I am a father, but what does that mean, I have not ever really thought about that before having kids being a dad. I mean, I'm 25 years old. I just got out of college and got a job 2 years ago! Luckily I don't have too much debt because I got a scholarship and Joe helped pay for the rest, but I have still not been in a stable, long-term relationship with anyone **ever**. Plus, there's the fact that I still live with Joe, and am a superhero by night. I mean, sure, I sort of had an idea that I wanted to get married to Iris, and have kids, after my Flash days were over, but that was years and years and years away. Yet here she is in front of me, it is overwhelming, but I know this is real. This is my reality.

"Barry, are you okay" I hear Caitlin call, followed by Cisco and Dr. Wells.

I break out of my thoughts and nod slowly beginning to move "yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just a lot to process" I say as I make my way to one of the chairs in the center of the room. "I'm a dad." I say, laughing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. "And I don't know who or how or why this is possible and I certainly don't know why I find this funny." I say honestly before I began laughing again.

"Yes, you are Mr. Allen and I have a theory that is quite possibly the answer to all your questions. However, on a more serious note, we have something far more serious to discuss. Are you going to keep her or not?" Dr. Wells says, and I realize that I hadn't thought about it that part the logistical part. What that means for me and for her, for my life and hers _was I going to keep her? How could I not? But at the same time, how could I?_ Whenever decision I made it would change my life, even if I do not keep her. I can't imagine just ignoring the fact that I have the daughter, "the decision is yours. Barry, but I do think that you should take care of her, to avoid another incident like today with what happened to her parents," I thought about it and I thought about it some more.

"Barry, you look like you're going to have a panic attack! "Cisco remarks I nod.

I don't know what to do. Everything is happening all at once. I can't leave her, because if anything was to happen to her or anyone else protecting her, I couldn't live with one more person dying because of me. This is what I feel I should do. I just feel strange doing it, and feeling so protective of this girl. I don't know how I'm going to make this work logistically; I know it needs to be done. There is no alternative option "I'm going to call my dad." I announce I literally have no idea why I announced it. I walk out of the main room and into the hallway. My hands start to shake a little as I dialed my dad's number. I'm nervous as it rings. I began to quickly realize that this is probably not the best conversation to have over the telephone, especially if he is with Eddie, his partner _, hey dad, I just wanted to let you know that I have a daughter that is 10 years younger than me, probably because of some weird speedforce effects. She happens to be the daughter of the victims of the case are currently working on, and probably witnessed the whole thing and since she is my daughter. That means she's technically, your granddaughter, so yeah, you're a grandfather. Congratulations. I guess_.

Nope, that is totally not happening over the phone before I can hang up. He answers, "Barry, where are you, you left the station an hour ago are you hurt?" My dad questions me anxiously.

"Dad, I am at Star labs and everything is fine. Well, "I say, trying to reassure him that remain truthful at the same time.

"What's with the ish. I don't like the ish" my dad remarks in his completely serious, concerned voice that I heard a lot of as a kid and hear even more now that I'm a superhero." Your voice is shaking; you are really nervous. I haven't heard you this nervous since you and Iris wrapped my brand-new sports car around a tree when you were 16. Do you have any idea how worried that makes me?" Dad says to me with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Can you come to Star labs?" I ask the anxiety slowly rising in my voice. "I don't think we should do this conversation over the phone." I add quickly

"I am leaving right now. I will be there in 15 minutes and then we'll talk about whatever it is that's got you so nervous. Please don't tell me you wrapped another car around a tree." Dad says, his voice is dripping with worry and sarcasm.

"Okay, that's great. I love you dad. See you soon." I say as I hang up and then head back to the main room and sit down in a chair opposite Dr. Wells. "I believe you owe me an explanation," I say calmly sitting back in my chair, crossing my arms as I eagerly await the answer to a question that seems to constantly reoccur since I began my life as a superhero _what the heck is going on?_

I watch as Dr. Wells readjusts his glasses. "Um. Well, Mr. Allen. It's not an entirely concrete explanation. I mean, since I have new data. I can't be for sure that my hypothesis is correct. It's just a theory pure speculation on my part." Dr. Wells says somewhat nervously glancing from me to my daughter, back at me for a spilt second and once again to her as he mutters something indistinguishable under his breath.

This confuses me momentarily. "Dr. Wells, how did this happen?" He looks at me with a set of blank eyes and an expression of melancholy bitterness as if he'd just swallowed acid. "Theoretically, I mean," I add.

His expression does not change, but his eyes are no longer blank they are softer, but seem sadder, "how this occurred is because you can time travel or at least you will be able to at some point in the future." He pauses and waits for me to process the information I nod, he continues, "you saw two men the night your mother died one man was the man in the yellow suit and I'm speculating the other one was you, you from the present or the future. That's evidence that shows you will have the ability to go back in time." He says, another pause before he continues, "as far as I can tell you will at some point in time, go back to the year 1998, do the baby-making thing with a woman, then travel back to the year that you came from the baby will be born and adopted by the Rosses and life will continue normally for both her and you until the events that lead to here, any questions, Mr. Allen?"

I nod. "How come I don't remember any of this?" I ask him very confused, but very intrigued by this prospect.

A look of apprehension is clearly displayed in his eyes like his mind is waging war on whether or not to tell me the information which I seek after what feels like a prolonged period of silence a sense of duty and obligation sets heavily into his eyes. "The circuit hypothesis" he says quickly, in the way you would spit out spoiled food, or poison. "I'm assuming from that look on your face. You have no idea what I'm talking about," I nod to tell him that he is correct. He takes a deep breath, like explaining this to me is going to be like running a marathon. He approaches the board. "The circuit hypothesis is a theory of quantum physics that states, time is not linear. It is a loop or circuit the circuit stars in continues to in a clockwise direction in which each event directly influences the next and so on. And if at any point in time there is a change in the circuit, the circuit will continue to progress normally until it catches up to the point in which the circuit was changed. This also makes changing the future or the past extremely difficult because if you change one event, it changes the next event and with no possible way to predict the new pattern of events, you lose any advantage you may have." He finishes his explanation of the theory and then comes back to sit beside me.

I lean back in my chair, trying to process the whirlwind that has come at me nonstop today, all I can do is think and contemplate and try to combat the millions of questions in my head that are demanding answers most of which I have none to give, I sit there, motionless having a silent conversation with myself asking questions of which I have no answers over and over pretty much the definition of insanity. Suddenly I hear a familiar voice. "Barry," it snaps me out of that never-ending conversation with myself. I see my dad sitting in a chair directly facing me.

"I'm sorry dad, I just got a little distracted." I apologize quickly to my dad.

My dad laughs. "I can see that and I'm assuming it has something to do with the reason you called me down here and the reason you've the Rosses daughter in a hospital bed." He says, gesturing to Mallory, "am I correct in assuming that?" My dad asks looking at me expectantly awaiting my answer.

I take a deep breath before answering, "That's partially it, but I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that." My dad raises an eyebrow and looks at me impatiently waiting for me to continue. "I didn't bring her here," I pause unsure how to proceed because he has never really been receptive to the idea of the man in the yellow suit. "He did,"

"But you said the blood spatter pattern was made by someone carrying her away from the crime scene at an abnormally fast speed. There's another one?" I nod and then go to the computer and pull up the security camera footage we watch it together in silence. When The Man in the Yellow Suit appears I pause the footage and zoom in on him and the fact that he is holding Mallory makes me a little sick inside. "Okay, so now the Bogeyman exists." My dad says in a sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you an apology son, I'm sorry," he says in a sincere tone of voice. "I'm going to reopen your mom's murder investigation, when I get back to the station and we can work it together this time, I promise." I can hear the honesty and shame in his voice.

"Apology accepted, and dad, don't beat yourself up. You are cop. It's your job to look for concrete evidence, and to be honest, until the past two months I started doubting myself too." I say honestly, not wanting him to feel guilty for what happened. He doesn't need that and honestly, neither do I.

"Thank you Barry." He says reflectively, before sighing and looking over at Mallory. "You think the cases are connected?" He asks, harmlessly I remain silent nervously contemplating how to tell me my dad something I myself do not fully understand. "Bear, you have wrecked sports car face. What is it? You can tell me." My dad says worryingly, trying to encourage me to tell him.

I take a deep breath. "Dad, remember when I told you that it was a little bit complicated." Dad nods patiently waiting for me to continue. "I may have underestimated the complexity of the situation." I say with a nervous laugh.

"Go on, son, there's nothing that can surprise me anymore." He says encouragingly, even though I highly doubt that this will not surprise him.

"I'm her dad." I say with some effort, and noticeable hesitation. My dad has a look of utter disbelief on his face. I reach for the DNA results, once I find them. I look at them for a moment, then pass them to him.

"These are DNA results", he says absent-mindedly as he scans them briefly and when he reaches the middle of the page, his mouth drops open "you are her dad." He says, almost dropping the results in the process. "But... But you're not old enough to have a daughter that old. She's 16 and you are 25. That's only nine years and a nine-year-old can't have a kid." He says, at a loss for words. My dad has had the most trouble adjusting to the realm of the crazy, upside down doesn't make conventional sense, that is, our new normal. "How did this happen? "He asks, straightforward and direct looking like he is preparing to be totally, completely and utterly lost.

I give him an uncertain nervous smile. "Time travel" I say fully aware of how absurd it sounds.

I am about to explain how this works when he holds up his hand to stop me. "Barry, you can stop. I don't want the details. I don't need them." He says firmly before adding, "if my world gets any more science fiction in it. I'm going to have to call you _the Starship Enterprise_." We both start laughing and my dad stands up and walks over to Mallory, who is still unconscious on the bed. "Barry, you know what you have to do right" he says, looking from her to me. I shake my head. "You have to take care of her. You have to be a dad." He says with what can only be described as absolute certainty.

I look at him. "I don't know if I can. I don't think I'm ready to be a dad." I say in frustration.

My dad gives me an understanding smile and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Barry, I may not understand a lot of the science and mechanics behind what makes the world so much different now." He pauses for second and laughs. "Okay, if I'm being truthful, I understand none of it. But I do know this, you have always been a protector, you have always been looking for someone to save, it's you. You have always loved that's who you are who you have always been, and that's all a dad really is someone who protects, someone who loves, someone who a person can turn to. No matter what a parent is always there for the child, it's already inside of you. You have everything you need and honestly, no one is ever prepared to be a parent, but I've seen you step up before when the city needed a hero you were there hero and you are, you've pushed yourself to the limit and beyond because they needed you to just like she needs to right now. Barry, she lost her mother and her father and I don't need to tell you how much hurts because you know, because you lived it. And do you honestly think there's anyone who can protect her from The Man in the Yellow Suit better than you?" With that, my dad concludes one of his famous pep talks.

"You are right about everything, as usual." I mumble him to end slightly aggravated by the fact that he is so good and gets almost everything right all the time.

Dad smiles and laughs. "Give it a few years, you'll get there too." He looks at my daughter for a second and then back at me and smirks, "especially with a daughter."

Wait a second, what does that mean? That question is quickly shaken off and replaced by a new one _. Why hasn't she woken up yet?_ She was brought here almost 2 hours ago, she should be awake by now, so why isn't she? "Cait," I say. My voice asks a silent question.

"I don't know, Barry, I've been monitoring her heart rate, breathing and pulse oxygen levels and everything is stable. There's no physical reason why she should be unconscious." Caitlin says matter-of-factly, like a doctor, but there is an obvious level of sympathy.

"Not helping Caitlin," I say under my breath, I don't know what I'm feeling or what I'm supposed to feel or do with nothing left to do and feeling utterly confused by today's events. I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that there is nothing that I can do except sit in a chair and wait.

We sit in a very uncomfortable silence filled with tension that you can almost feel until my dad says, "just so we're clear, you and Mallory are welcome to live with me at the house with me." He says, turning to me before pausing ever so slightly. "I mean the house is pretty much accessible except for the bedrooms upstairs, which I'm sure won't be a problem because you can carry her _._ "My dad instantly recognizes my uncomprehending expression "oh, Barry, you didn't know did you?" My dad's voice is full of sympathy a look of instant regret plays on his face as I slowly shake my head. My dad takes a deep breath and looks me directly in the eyes. "Mallory is in a wheelchair, Barry, due to medical malpractice when she was born."

"How bad is it?" I say, my voice shaking slightly with anger, fear and tension as yet another wave of new information floods my already highly confused brain. I look at her so much has happened in the past two hours and she is oblivious to it. At least I've had some time to digest what exactly has occurred and it has not hit all at once like it will for her, probably with the force of an atomic bomb.

"She's partially paralyzed, meaning she can walk, but her movement from the waist down is highly restricted and difficult." My dad tells me point blank.

My anger turns to sadness, not at her or for me, but for her, I imagine her having to rely on everyone else for everyday things, and it makes me feel sad for her as well as angry at the person that caused it. Not that that changes anything, because I will still protect her and take care of her, if anything, it makes me more determined to keep her safe. The silence sets in once again heavy in the room. My gaze drifts around the room, searching it aimlessly until my eyes come to rest on Mallory slowly and with no warning her eyes flutter open, she is awake. She looks around the room. My dad looks at me. "You ready for this," he asks gently.

"I'm probably as ready as I ever will be. So yeah, let's do this." I say clearly extremely uncertain about the whole thing.

My father and I walk slowly to her bed. She looks at the both of us. Her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and panic. "Who are you? Where am I? Where did he go? Why am I here?" With that she ends her frenzied barrage of questions, taking in a deep breath of air.

Joe and I both share a stunned look after what we had just played out right in front of us. Joe quickly sprang into action. "Mallory, I know that she just woke up and you've probably seen a lot of bad things tonight and I promise we will answer all your questions. But first you have to calm down." Joe says in his very calm detective voice.

She sits there, her body shaking from all the tension that is running through every part of her body. She curls up into a ball. "I just saw my parents get murdered and I wake up in a place where I don't know where I am. I don't want to calm down." She says, her voice quivering because of all the pent-up raw and dangerous emotions that she is experiencing.

"I know, Mallory, I know, but you've got to calm down because this isn't going to help you and it isn't going to help us help you. So you have to at least try, okay?" His voice patient and understanding as he waits for her to calm down. Within a few minutes, she calms down. "Good, Mallory" he says, praising her. "Now that we've got that out of the way my name is Detective Joe West," he gets up and points to me. "And this is Barry Allen."

Her eyes focus like a laser beam directly in the center of my chest, I have the Flash Suit on and she is staring at the symbol "the Flash, you're the Flash," she breathes out, still focusing on my symbol "that would mean…" She pauses when she becomes aware that we can hear her. "Oh no, never mind, I was wrong." She finishes quickly, clearly hiding something.

She looks away and sits perfectly still and remains absolutely silent. I am startled by this new development. What was she about to say? Did he tell her something to make her afraid of me? I carefully move to the side of the bed and cautiously sit down on the bed. "Mallory, what did he tell you?" I get no response. In fact, she won't even look at me. "Mallory, please talk to me so that I can understand." I say honestly,

She looks at me for a brief moment I hold her hand because it seems like the right thing to do. She doesn't fight me. "Is it true?" She asks me quietly she looks dead "Are you my dad?" She asks in a voice only I can hear. I nod slowly, she looks at me with wide eyes, her face clearly not understanding and personally I don't blame her. She starts examining my face from nearly every angle and frowns and then does it again. "But you're so young," she says, clearly highly confused. She makes this face at me, which I have to admit is pretty cute, "how old are you, anyway? 30?" I shake my head. "Lower or higher?" She asks with an inquisitive spark in her eyes, I point down at the floor with my free hand. "28?" Once again, I point down, shaking my head. "26?" She asks with uncertainty in her voice. I point down. Her face drops "seriously, you can't be that young." She says in frustration. I laugh openly and speed over to the desk and grab my wallet and return to Mallory. I pull out my driver's license and hand it to her. She looks at and then back to me. "You are being serious. You are 25" She exclaims, clearly in shock as she hands it back to me. "I don't get it, how is this possible?" She inquires looking at me inquisitively.

"I can move superfast, and apparently I can time travel because of a particle accelerator explosion the night I got struck by lightning." I explain to her.

She nods. "With all I've seen tonight I am inclined to believe it." She says, half-jokingly half seriously. Before continuing, "I don't want any more explanation. It's okay, I believe you. I've had enough crazy for one night.

I nod to signal that I understand. At that moment, Caitlin comes over. "I have to see how you're healing" she says to Mallory, Mallory sits forward as Caitlin lifts up, Mallory's shirt and removes the bandage to take a look, I stand up to look with her I was clearly not prepared for what I see. The cuts are deep and long. "Luckily. It looks like she inherited your accelerated healing capabilities, otherwise…" Caitlin says, before realizing that Mallory is conscious. She quickly puts her hand on her face.

"Otherwise, I would've died." Mallory says flatly. Caitlin looks at her and starts to apologize. "Don't worry about it. I am amazed that I didn't die as well." She says, offering a tiny smile to Caitlin, who smiles back. The only thing I can think about is the fact that this was with accelerated healing.

"You can take her home, just make sure to change the bandages every two hours." Caitlin says, "good luck Barry!" Caitlin calls as I put Mallory in her wheelchair. "I almost forgot, here are her medications and pain medication." Caitlin says, handing me a baggie of six different medications. I give her a concerned look. "Don't worry, it's all her normal stuff and the instructions are on the bottle." Caitlin says gently as we head out the door.

"Mallory. There's one other thing you probably should know." Joe says, looking at Mallory. She looks at him in return. "I'm Barry's adoptive father, so technically I'm your grandfather. And you live with me."

Mallory nods. "Anything else I should know?" She asks both of us as we get in the car.

"Probably" we both answer in tandem. "But that's pretty much the basics, we don't want to give you information overload."

She nods. "So where are we going?" Mallory asks from her seat in the car.

"Well, I'm going to get you some food and then we are going to the station for Barry to sign the custody paperwork so he can be all official." He pauses. "And then we go down to the morgue where you will identify the bodies of your parents and then go back upstairs where you will give an official statement to me so I can continue my investigation" Joe finishes.

I look at him in horror the getting feed part, I'm okay with that, but my daughter having to identify her parent's bodies and give a statement part. I'm not okay with "for real Joe, you are really going to make her do that tonight? She just woke up after being stabbed in the back. She can't do it tomorrow?" I say angrily at him.

"No, I can't do it tomorrow." Mallory's voice says defiantly. "My guess is the stockholders want the investigation dealt with quickly, so their value doesn't drop." She takes a deep breath before continuing, "I'm also assuming you're under enormous pressure from my family." She shakes her head. "No doubt my uncles are arguing like mad in my father's office about who gets to be the next CEO of Kelsey Drive Industries." The note in her voice is one of pure disgust she folds her arms across her chest.

Joe and I exchange looks of intrigue and also concern about what would make her say that. We eat at the café, where I ask Mallory about what she would want her new name to be at some point in the conversation. My mother came up and I proceeded to tell, Mallory, all about her. Mallory reminds me so much of her. It's almost scary. So we decide on the name of Mallory Nora Allen once dinner is over, we head back to the car and go to the station.

We pull up to the station and I get out the car and get her to carefully put her in her wheelchair. Caitlin had bought her a really nice new wardrobe because all of her other clothing items are currently in the evidence lockup because her house is being searched by the police as they try to find out who did it. (We all know who did it, we just can't say the men in the yellow suit without being locked up ourselves.) She is wearing a white blouse, a black lace skirt, tights and black flats. I told her that it was fine to wear something casual, but she insisted on wearing this, saying she wanted to make a good first impression. Caitlin helped do her hair and surprisingly, Joe is pretty good with hair as well. Her hair is down, but clipped with a hair accessory in the back. Mallory starts receiving compliments and looks from the younger male policeman. The second we walk in the building, I feel myself throw up in my mouth and I quickly move to walk closer beside her, causing both her and Joe to smile and laugh at me.

We reach the bullpen, and immediately are met with applause and cheering. "Detective West, Mr. Allen and Miss Ross, join me in my office." Capt. Singh yells above the applause, which stops almost immediately after he does this, causing Mallory, Joe and I to hurriedly follow him into his office. Once we are all inside his office. He sits down at his desk and points at the door, which has been left ajar noticing his obvious unspoken request I close the door as quickly and as quietly as possible. He gives me a tiny glint of a satisfied smile and a curt nod. "Detective West and Mr. Allen, I don't know how you managed to find Miss. Ross and I don't even want to know all that matters is that she is alive and she can give us the first credible information on what happened, so we can get our first lead, and hopefully this PR nightmare of a case will be over quickly. So good job, Detective West and Mr. Allen." The captain says, quickly Mallory's face falls open with a look of complete disbelief at what she just heard. The words so insensitive. I think for a moment that he must have forgotten that she was in the room, until he turns to her, and sighs, "unfortunately for you, my dear, you will be placed in protective custody because your family and your father's whole entire company is part of an active investigation, which means you can't be in contact with anyone of your former family members, and once again unfortunately for you, due to the fact you are 16. This custody change will probably be permanent."

Her bottom lip quivers and she looks at me with pleading eyes, I realize now is my moment. "I want to sign the custody paperwork." I say. Suddenly, with a burst of energy. Mallory smiles melancholy.

"Allen? Seriously? Are you serious?" He gawks, staring at me. I nod and smile. He gets the paperwork and a pen and lays them on his desk. "You do realize what this means, right, you will be a father? This is permanent." He questions me.

"I know," I mutter as I grab the pen & sign my name.

He sits back in his chair, looking clearly amazed at the spectacle playing out in front of him as I pass the pen to Mallory, "and you're okay with this?" He whispers in amazement.

"Yes, sir." She says politely, glancing up at him as she signs her old name on the first line, and her new name on the second. She straightens herself in the wheelchair as she puts down the pen.

He cast one more look of amazement. This time it is directed at Joe who chuckles at him. "Don't look at me, Captain I don't tell him what to do anymore. He's an adult!" He says, "but just so you know I approve. I've always wanted a granddaughter."

"Okay then, you can take her down to the morgue so she can identify her parents before gives her witness statement, so it will be fresh in her mind." He says. Joe and I both look at him. "Or we to do the witness statement tomorrow. Whatever works. But the morgue is nonnegotiable. We have to get the identity tonight so we can proceed with the death certificates, now go." He says, and practically pushes us out the door of his office.

"Did you really just do that, Barry? Sign Mallory's custody paperwork?" Eddie asks me, as soon as we are outside the office door. He sounds impressed. I nod. "Congratulations, Barry!" He says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

Captain Singh comes out of his office. "Go!" He bellows causing us to quickly walk towards the elevator to go down to the morgue.

"Are you okay, Mallory?" I ask her, once we are in the elevator.

She takes a deep breath, and slowly nods. "I'm okay," she says, before hesitating slightly and continuing, "I just don't like him." She finishes crossing her arms and looking down.

Joe and I nod thoughtfully in agreement. "He's not normally like this, it is probably because of the high-profile nature of this case," she glances at me. "Which doesn't excuse his behavior, but it makes it understandable." She nods the elevator stops and we are here.

We approach the morgue. "We are here to see the Ross bodies." Joe says, flashing his badge at Ian our resident medical examiner.

"Of course Detective West and company, come on in." He says, welcoming us into his room. "I would assume you are the daughter." He says, pointing at her, she nods weakly. "Oh, my poor dear I am terribly sorry." He says, clearly being truthful. "There you are, my dear," he says. He goes to unzip the bags "this will be very difficult for you to see again you sure you're ready?" She nods. "Okay, my dear, here we go." And with that he unzips the bags she closes her eyes for a moment and grabs my hand. "Oh dear, this is a rather embarrassing turn of events. We seem to have lost the bodies." He says, adding a nervous laugh.

"What?" All three of us chorus we look into the bags and see nothing there except two empty body bags.


	2. I'm skeptical, it keeps me alive

Chapter 2: I'm skeptical, it keeps me alive

Mallory's point of view

"What?" I exclaim quickly looking in the body bags expecting to see my parents' bodies only instead I am met with the sight of nothing but an empty bag. I thought that maybe he was messing with me, but clearly he wasn't.

I look up at him horrified. "Perhaps my assistant put them in the wrong place." He says, sounding concerned, but hopeful that this possibility may be true, and honestly, so am I. The alternative explanations are not as simple and straightforward. I watch him open every single slot, pull out the body bag, open it and put it back again shaking his head. "I'm sorry my dear, but it seems your parents are missing." He says apologetically, looking embarrassed and frustrated. "In all my years I have never had anything like this happen." He mutters mostly to himself before adjusting his jacket and saying "I probably should call the Captain Singh," with that he leaves the room and goes into his office to inform Captain Singh of the events.

 _They are gone. My parents are dead and their bodies are missing,_ my mind repeats on a feedback loop, an endless echo as it slowly begins to sink in. It doesn't seem real; it feels like I'm floating over on my surroundings. I recognize that I'm not fully aware of what is happening, it also feels like I'm drowning at the same time. I am vaguely aware of someone driving me toward the elevator. Once we are in the elevator, I let myself completely embrace that feeling. I stop fighting it and let it come over me like a wave and close my eyes.

I hear the elevator open and somehow manage to drive myself to the bullpen. The bullpen is extremely busy, borderline chaotic people running all over the place, carrying files and on phones, yelling and arguing with people on the other end. My least favorite new person, Captain Singh, storms into the bullpen and parts the crowd like it is the Red Sea. "Okay, people," he yells loudly clapping his hands, "the bodies in the most high-profile and single most important case of my career have gone missing." He laughs like a crazy person before continuing, "that means that we are pulling an all-nighter; all hands on deck, does anyone have a problem with that?" He asks, still yelling at the top of his voice. He starts walking towards his office when he catches a glimpse of me. "You!" He says, pointing directly at me. "Follow me, " he orders, I just sit there and stare at him, which clearly annoys him. "Follow me, " he tries again. This time, his articulation is almost a growl which instantly makes me desire to comply. I proceed to walk behind him. "You too Thawne." He says, pointing to the detective that had congratulated Barry earlier. The man seems confused for half a second, but quickly recovers and moves to come after us.

He slams and locks the office door, the second we get in the room. He then proceeds to close the blinds once he is totally satisfied that we are alone and no one can disturb or see what he is doing. He walks round his desk to the office where I sit in my chair beside Detective Thawne, he steps directly into my personal space. "Listen Miss Ross, oh, I'm sorry I forgot. Miss Allen, you and your parents are causing me more trouble than your father's unimaginable net worth." He says viciously. I stare at him. "This case is making me sound crazy." He says in exasperation; I snicker at this remark. _If you only knew the half of it._ I think rolling my eyes, he glares at me. "I need this to be over before I completely lose my mind. I demand this to be over now. I need, I need…" He states as he walks back around to his chair behind the desk, his growing frustration can easily be picked up as he gropes around blindly for the cover of a drawer and opens it pulls out a glass and a bottle of bourbon, and pours himself a glass, drinks it, and then raises the empty glass in a wordless offer to the detective who is sitting beside me, who is looking completely dazed. Captain Singh takes Detective Thawne's lack of a response as a no, he shrugs and pours himself another glass.

"Captain, don't you think you maybe shouldn't do that at work?" Eddie asked, adding a nervous laughter.

The question earned a look of pure disgust from the Captain, "Detective Thawne, I am the captain of the precinct, which means I can do whatever I want." He says dramatically glaring at Eddie, who sinks in his chair and quickly nods. "And plus it's not like they can see me anyway." He adds haphazardly.

I have to fight the urge to gawk and roll my eyes at the stuff that comes out of this guy's mouth; have I mentioned I really hate this guy? If not, I will say it again. Man, I really hate this guy. He sits up in his chair with considerable effort. He leans forward on his elbows and lazily points his finger at me. "You, " he slurs, obviously extremely intoxicated by this point I force myself not to laugh as I wait for him to finish the rest of his sentence. "You on any pain medication?" I give him an inquisitive look and slowly shake my head in the negative direction not sure where the conversation is headed. "Good, good." He says, satisfied with my answer before pausing and sighing like he lost his train of thought. He regains it about half a second later. "Don't take any just yet, because we need you to give a statement and it won't be admissible in court. If you are on pain pills." He says in his slurred speech, which is only getting worse.

I'm so taken aback by what I am seeing and hearing from what is supposedly the face of the city's police department that I quite frankly don't know how to respond. I sit there in his office looking at the spectacle playing out in front of me. It truly is the spectacle, and it utterly and completely amazes me that this man, this heavily intoxicated belligerent man is the face of the city's police department, but as it has been clearly demonstrated tonight, nothing is impossible. I finally come to the conclusion that my response to this won't matter much if at all. Upon reaching that conclusion, I decide that it is in my best interest, as well as everyone else's to comply with whatever he feels like I need to do to get this case off his plate. I take a deep breath. "I understand Capt. Singh, whatever you need me to do." I say with what I hope is a convincing tone.

"Thank you, Miss Allen for that sentiment, but quite frankly, it really doesn't matter." He says impudently before turning to Eddie "she needs to be searched, and interrogated on her parents' murder and questioned about the missing bodies." He says, pointing to me.

Eddie leans back in his chair and eyes me clearly in a state of shock at what he has just heard "and you want me to be the one to do it?" He asks uncertainly.

"That is the whole reason I brought you in here with her Eddie, that is the general idea. Yes" Capt. Singh says dryly rolling his eyes. "So slow Eddie, it's remarkable that you became a cop." He adds, making me want to punch him in the face, but sadly I can't.

Eddie is clearly insulted by the comments made by the captain, but manages to reply "I get it, sir, but don't you think that maybe we should get a female cop to do it." Eddie stutters.

This earns a look of unadulterated revulsion from Captain Singh, "No, you are the lead investigator on this case and I want you to do it." The overarticulation of every word clearly displays in no uncertain terms, his rising anger at the situation.

"But this could be against regulation and get the verdict thrown out if it comes up during the trial." Eddie says, offering up one last piece of protest clearly not wanting to participate in the situation.

The captain stands up and starts walking towards us and I instantly know that we are in trouble. "Do you really think I care?" He asks us, it is obviously a rhetorical question the quiet intensity in his voice makes it eerily apparent that we have crossed the point of no return. "No, no, I don't. I couldn't care less about the verdict or the fact that they died. It means nothing to me." He tells Eddie and then he remembers that I am in the room. "Sorry darling," he says disparagingly. "But the only thing I see in your father and mother's death is a promotion." He finishes with a sneer. _Did he really just say that out loud?_ I am stunned into silence. He thinks nothing of it and turns once again to Eddie, "so you can either search and interrogate her or I will do it and you will lose your job." The ultimatum is laid down, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is serious, absolutely one hundred percent serious.

Eddie gets up out of his seat and walks over to me. "I'm sorry, Mallory" he says, standing behind me, sounding slightly nervous and reluctant to get started. I can tell his apology is an honest one.

"It's okay, I understand." I lie through my teeth. This is not okay, none of this is okay, but I have to at least try and make him feel better because it is not his fault.

"What is this, Doctor Phil?" Just go on and search her. Enough stalling and as I pointed out, it doesn't matter whether she says it's okay or not. It only matters that we get this done! Out of the way! Finished!" He says with a bite in his voice.

"Captain, I don't know how to do this. I have never searched a person in a wheelchair, before." Eddie admits apprehensively most likely, fearing the reaction of the captain.

The captain rolls his eyes and gives an annoyed sigh. "Eddie, it is quite simple. You follow the contour of her wheelchair and you put your hands on the inside of the chair and you pat her down. " He explains matter-of-factly. "I could show you if you want." He offers, panic buttons are going off all over my mind. I do not under any circumstances want that guy to touch me. It doesn't matter, that apparently he is gay. I just don't feel comfortable with any sort of intoxicated man touching me.

Luckily Eddie comes to his senses, just as Captain Singh is walking around to search me, "no thanks Captain I can do it." Eddie says quickly, the captain shrugs and goes back to his seat.

"She needs to take off her cardigan, you can't search her with that on." The captain interjects, "and she also needs to lean over the desk." He says, adding yet another requirement for this search to be to his liking.

I take off my cardigan and lay it on the desk. I then wheel up to the desk and put my hands on it so that I am forced to lean over. Eddie, then moves to search me, due to the limited amount of space between my wheelchair and my body his hands, press against my body, which I guess is the idea of a search to make sure that the suspect doesn't have anything on their person. He is trying to get this over with quickly, but also do it thoroughly enough to the satisfaction of Captain Singh, so that we don't have to repeat the process again. He completes the process in ten minutes, "she has nothing on her." He informs the captain of something I feel like we all already knew, so I was basically searched for no reason at all.

"Just as I suspected, I just wanted to make sure I was correct." He says nonchalantly to Eddie and I as each of us take our original seats in the room. I once again struggle to keep my cool. "To thank you for your cooperation this far, I am giving you a forty-minute reprieve. You can leave the room, go to the bathroom do anything you want, except leave the building, or take pain pills because I'm just a nice guy like that." He finishes with a half-smile, half smirk and that makes me want to puke, I feel like the Hulk. That's my secret, Captain, I'm always angry. It's not just the look on his face that makes me want to punch him. It's the very fact that he believes he's being generous and I honestly believe that he believes he's being generous.

It is disgusting and vile, but somehow I manage to smile back and say, "thank you" before I walk out of the office.

The second my dad sees me; he pulls me into a hug. "Mallory. What is going on? Are you okay?" He asks me, after he releases me, and has a look at my face.

I am so stressed out; I can't think about anything except the fact that I'm on the clock. "You don't want to know. I've got forty minutes and I really need to go the bathroom." I say annoyed, but honestly, I really have to go to the bathroom before I bust.

My dad quickly helps me to the bathroom and puts me back in my wheelchair. Every part of my back is on fire. I bite my lip and breathe deeply as I look down at the clock which is part of the display of my power wheelchair. I have fifteen minutes before I have to get back to the office to be interrogated. Dad catches me looking at the clock. "Why are you looking at the clock?" He asks with intrigue and concern.

"I told you I had forty minutes." I answer, simply not wanting to talk about it. "And now I've got fifteen" I say to him.

"You have fifteen minutes before what?" He asks, prodding me. I make the decision right then and there, not to answer. Don't misunderstand me, I am fully aware of the situation playing out in front of me. I am aware that it is an extreme violation of protocol and rights that I should be protesting vigorously and should demand that they be halted and under normal circumstances I would. Under normal circumstances, I would wheel into the office and give the police captain a piece of my mind. These circumstances are anything but normal and as such they demand to be playing with a different set of rules, the type of rules where I just shut up and let it happen because in reality that is what's best for everyone.

"It's nothing," I say flatly to him, "I just don't like being late." It is an outright lie, one I'm not entirely certain that he believes.

"I know that is not the truth, Mallory" Barry says, shaking his head. "Let me change your bandage, before you leave." He tells me grabbing a bandage from the bag of supplies Caitlin had given him. He moves to stand behind me. "What happened to your sweater?" He asks, as I lean up so he can lift up my shirt to change the bandage. I stay silent and dad does not press for answers. I think because he assumes that I am in pain, which I am. As he takes off the bandage a wave of heat floats over my left shoulder blade, at that moment his thumb brushes against a slowly rising knot on my shoulder, right next to the wound. I bite my bottom lip as he places the new bandage and pulls down my shirt. I sit back in my chair and we exit the bathroom once outside I look at the clock, seven minutes. We walk towards the bullpen Dad looks at me; he can tell that I am in pain, he hands me two pills of pain medication.

I can't take it because of the interrogation and questioning a person on pain medication would violate the protocol, but it seems to me that everything that has occurred has been one giant violation of protocol. Then, have been all about screwing the protocol, but apparently I have to abide by protocol because of the implications to his career and the investigation if I don't. Honestly though, if any of this comes out before, during or after the trial, the verdict will get reversed and all those implicated in the circus will be in serious trouble. I decide not to take the medication and hand it back to my dad, who looks confused. He clearly did not get to hear the wonderful internal monologue that you all did. It is because of this that I know I have to explain what I don't want to explain. I take a deep breath. "I can't take those not yet anyway, because Captain Singh is interrogating me, " I whisper quickly trying to explain, not wanting to go into details.

He stops dead, and stares at me. Then he guides me to an open conference room and shuts the door to give us privacy. "He's doing what exactly?!" He questions me with a quiet intensity that makes me believe that he is using a considerable amount of effort not to yell at me.

The turn of events startles me. "Well, technically Eddie is interrogating me, but only because Capt. Singh told him to." I babble struggling to form a coherent thought and feeling an urge to clarify my earlier statement before dad turns his anger on the wrong man.

"But why is he interrogating you?" Barry asks me clearly aggravated by his boss's actions.

I struggle not to fire back with a clever retort. "I don't know." I answer him honestly, "but he thinks that somehow I am involved in this… Whatever the heck it is, or that I have information on someone who does!" I add injecting the first logical, coherent path of thought in the captain's brain.

"That is insane, you were unconscious and had a stab wound in your shoulder. There is no way in the world that you have anything to do with this." My dad says in frustration. "It makes no sense!"

I nod my head in agreement. "But since when does anything that happened in the past six hours make sense?" I ask rhetorically, in an attempt to lighten the mood an attempt that I know is not going to work the second, it leaves my mouth I continue on quickly. "Besides, Capt. Singh seems pretty hell-bent on closing this case before it destroys him whether he has to find a lead or create one. I don't think it matters to him. I'm just the quickest means to achieve a favorable end." I say my piece with an obvious contempt in my voice and shake my head slightly at my ability to follow and translate the captain's incoherent thought process into logical thought progression, I take it as a sign that I now fluent in "jerk" after sitting in my father's office for hours after school listening to boring business meetings and conference calls with other Fortune 500 companies who thought they were so much better because they had grown up rich.

"I don't like it, he shouldn't be able to treat you like this, you should be at home getting rest. Your parents deserve justice" he states simply looking at me with pity in his eyes, his voice wavering in anger.

I wheel myself closer to him. "You're right." I say, my voice quivers momentarily before I regain some essence of control. "You are absolutely right, but sometimes in life, the only options you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose, so you choose the option that benefits the most people." I close my eyes as I remember what my mother would often tell me when the doctors would come back with less than favorable news. "Realistically, I am the only one with enough background information on my parents to give a realistic goose chase." I say, offering another piece of justification for the turn of events that we are experiencing, one that it looks like my dad can reluctantly agree with.

"I still don't like it." He says, furrowing his brow, before opening the door so we can make our way to the bullpen.

I offer him a small smile before straightening myself in my chair and saying in a very official sounding voice. "Your objections have been duly noted." I quickly race out of the conference room with him running after me at normal speed, which is actually quite hilarious. When I get to the bullpen, people are staring at me.

The closest police officer to the captain's office looks at me for a moment then gets up to open the door to the captain's office. "You're late, he's angry. Good luck." The police officer says to me as I enter Capt. Singh's office. He automatically shuts the door

I take my seat beside Detective Thawne, Capt. Singh is sitting at his desk with an empty bottle of bourbon at his feet and a glass on his desk. He looks positively pathetic, disheveled and not like a cop at all the moment he sees me, though his eyes light up with the recognition and in this case, that's a very bad thing. "Mallory, how nice of you to finally join us." He says, his voice is oozing with slime. "You're late, is it too much to ask for punctuality?" He asks, spitting on my face in the process. I don't answer. I know this question is rhetorical. It takes me half a second, that there is a new person in the room. "No matter, we need to proceed as quickly as possible." he says, before telling me to turn my chair to the right.

This is my first interrogation, but it's not my first interview with police normally, when I am interviewed by the police it is to give a witness statement of some kind. Unfortunately, unlike the other times I have worked with police and other agencies I will have to embellish the truth, oh who am I kidding, I am going to have to straight up lie to the police because of the interesting and unusual facets of this situation. Eddie starts by asking me basic background questions to confirm that I am who I say I am, although I can't imagine anyone wanting to be me right now. Once my identity is confirmed, the real fun begins. "Can you describe what happened? " He asks me gently, he doesn't push, is very understand which makes it abundantly clear. He is a good cop.

It takes me several minutes to decide exactly how I am doing to answer his questions; I don't want to completely lie to the police. I decide to answer the questions, truthfully and change some of the major details, like the fact that the man that killed my parents is a speed force using knife wielding maniac, who hates my father for an unknown reason. My father being your CSI investigator and also the city's masked crusader and all this happened because of time travel! That's not going to fly. "We were walking out of this restaurant, and this guy called their names and got them to turn around. He pushed us into an alley where he insinuated that he knew us and seemed to have some sort of personal vendetta. He then stabbed my mother through the heart while forcing me to watch. I started crying and he decided to shut me up with a knife in my shoulder. I blacked out, after I was stabbed, so I have no idea what happened to my dad." With that, my account of the events is complete. I am quite impressed with myself that I am able to give a mostly accurate account with only a few lies mostly of omission of details that I simply couldn't find a way to tell with even a grain of truth, so I decided to leave it out entirely.

Eddie looks at me with a mix of shock and sympathy. "He stabbed you?" Eddie asks in a slightly surprised way. I nod and turn around so back is facing them and move my hair out of the way so they can see the stab wound on full display. "Wow" he says as I turn back around to face them. "Forgive me for being so blunt, but how in the world did you survive?" He asks me.

"I don't know." I say, giving them the simplest answer. Even though it's not entirely true. I do know why I survived and I know why I will continue to survive. I am "functionally immortal," which means my cells regenerate at so rapid a pace that any damaged incurred is fixed in a matter of days. This works with injuries, but not illnesses, don't ask me why that is. Illnesses take longer, but if they cause any tissue/organ damage my body automatically heals itself. Old age can't get me either because of my rapidly regenerating cells. I will stop aging at 21 and stay like that forever. So yeah, I'm "functionally immortal. The reason they call me functionally immortal is because they simply haven't found the anything that will do it, and they are determined to find it. Honestly though, I think they should just give up.

Eddie leans up against the desk and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is about to ask a question, a very big, very dangerous question, he stays silent prolonging the inevitable as if prolonging it would somehow make it better, which it will not, but at least he's trying. He takes a long, deep breath, and glances up at me again. "Do you know anyone who would want to do this to your parents?" He finally askes.

I knew we were getting into the hard questions. The type of questions that I hate answering even on normal occasions with perfectly normal surrounding circumstances and yes, I just called giving a statement to a police officer "normal" it may not be the majority's version of normal, but it's my version. There is a lot of pressure on witnesses to provide correct, current and thorough information to help with the investigation. There's also a lot of pressure on them, because if they get it wrong an innocent person could be put in jail for the rest of their life. So how am I supposed to answer this question? I can't tell the truth, because of extenuating circumstances beyond my control, and so far out of the realm of normal, reasonable, logical, and plausible that it is almost laughable. I can't just say "no" because in reality there are probably a great many people of notable caliber that wanted my parents, in particular, my father dead, and have the means and capability to do so.

The police are probably at my father's office right now; they will have found his "Love box" it's not as dirty as it sounds, this box is a collection of the numerous death threats, angry emails and hate mail that my dad acquired over his 22 years of being a business executive/technology mogul. That is a lot of hate and anger from everyone from disgruntled fired employees to shady men representing competing corporations, but my dad wore it, and displayed it with pride. I once asked he kept all those messages in this box on his desk where everyone could see, and he told me, "hate often follows those who do what is right." I have never fully understood, but now I believe I'm starting to, doing what is right, isn't always the popular choice and doing the right thing, requires making sacrifices. I don't want to put any innocent men behind bars. However, with the lengths that Capt. Singh has gone through. I don't think he will let it go without a conclusion which lands him a promotion of some kind. I know how I'm going to answer. "Yes, I can think of a few people that would like to hurt my father." I answer flatly, looking down Eddie waits patiently for me to continue. "About a month ago, my father was hired on Project Firebird, it was groundbreaking technology of some kind, massive payout – $500 million." I paused to let the new information sink in. Eddie's jaw hit the floor and Capt. Singh is doing some kind of happy dance. "Three other major corporations, lost the contract to my father. They were mad. They threatened to sue my father for bribing the Secretary of Defense, William Brian, which he didn't do my father hated politics. He only did business with the government because they let him build big toys," I say with a chuckle thinking about how excited my father would get when he was hard at work on a new piece of technology. "I'm changing the world, Mallory, I'm changing the world! "That was my father, an eccentric lovable goofball.

Eddie is about to say something when Capt. Singh decides to resume his current action of back seat driver. I almost forgot that he was there his usually boisterous commentary has been toned down to an indiscernible mumbling and it was nice. Unfortunately, I guess he couldn't help himself, because he staggers up to me, turns the notepad in the center of the desk around to face me and begins pointing wildly at the pen. He says something that is unrecognizable in the human language, but I get the point. He wants me to write down the names of the three companies that lost the job to my father. I take the pen and carefully and legibly print the names of the companies each company gets a separate line so he doesn't get confused. Irina Technologies, Alastair National and The Price Technology Firm (I know ironic right) and hand him back the notepad. He takes one look at the notepad shakes his head and says, "I need the names of the people who run the company." He says, aggravated before handing the notepad back to me. My hand shakes slightly as I began to write the names of the three CEOs of those companies Elijah Machiavelli, Alastair McKinley, and Alexander Price. After I write their names beside their respective companies. I once again return the notepad to him.

"Hm," the captain says, looking down at what I had written "wow, these are some rich and powerful people and mega corporations. I'm talking Fortune 500, Forbes top 100 richest people. If one of them killed your parents. This is great," I stare at him, not expecting an apology or for him to realize what had just come out of his mouth, then he says something that shocks me more than what he just said, "oh my gosh, did I just say that out loud?! I am so very, very sorry I didn't mean it like that. Oh gosh I am truly a horrible person. Please forgive me. I'm really, really, really sorry. Have I said something else like that?" The captain questions. Eddie and I.

I stare at him, wait a second. Did he really just apologize to me for everything that happened in the past two hours. All the insensitive comments, breaches of protocol, and general awfulness. He apologized for all of that. Wait a second, I think I know it's going on, well, at least with Capt. Singh. He's been drunk the whole entire day, presumably because of the stress that my parents case has put on him. "Are you a drinker when you get stressed?" I ask, and I hope it is in an innocent enough way.

I know the answer before he says anything because of the sharp look of recognition, clarity and shame that comes to his eyes. "I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it was a horrible idea. I just couldn't take all of the pressure." He says, lamenting over everything that has happened. At this point he has his head in his hands. "How badly…" There is a long pause. "How badly did I screw up?" He asks us, his voice breaking.

Eddie and I share a hesitant look between us. The man sounds so broken, and so apologetic that neither of us have the heart to tell him that he gold medaled in messing this one up. "That's it!" He mutters quietly but defiantly before sitting up in the chair and regaining his composure. "I know what I have to do…" He pauses for a moment, looking at me with such remorse that I can feel my own heart almost breaking "I'm going to resign as Captain of the Central City Police Department and I want your grandfather to take my place." He says, I sit there in utter amazement and now I am conflicted. I do not know whether to tell him not to retire and that everyone makes mistakes, or be supportive of his decision, or whether I should say nothing at all.

I say the only thing I can in this situation. "I forgive you." I say to him, and I truly mean it. The relief on his face is absolutely noticeable.

After this, everything goes south at an incredibly fast speed, we hear a knock on the door. "Capt., I think you need to see this. Someone is turning themselves in for the Ross murderers." A police officer informs us. Wait, what I told you I had a bad feeling about this. I'm guessing it's a normal person, otherwise I would expect to hear a lot more screaming and praying. The captain, Eddie and I run out of the office. Like I said I was expecting a normal person, but I was not expecting the normal person I saw. Here standing in front of me was Alexander Price, CEO of The Price Technology Firm and just so happened to be one of the names I wrote down on the notepad 20 minutes ago.

Here he was standing in front of me in his $1000 suit and not the yellow kind with his wavy gray hair and crisp British accent. "Hello my name is Alexander Price I am the CEO of the Price technology firm and I would like to confess to the Ross murders." This is actually happening a CEO of a Fortune 500 company were multi-billions has just walked in to a local police station and confessed to a crime of first-degree murder, which he didn't commit. I know he didn't commit this crime, and he knows he didn't commit this crime. So why in the world is he confessing? They ask him a question about how my parents were murdered and he says, "I stabbed Mrs. Ross through the heart and broke Mr. Ross's neck." He knows how they were murdered. It looks legit, it sounds legit and they arrest him and take him to a cell.

This isn't right, though, and how is anyone not questioning how perfect this is. The fact that a multibillion-dollar man, who was angry at my father for getting a huge deal to make some groundbreaking technology. That he apparently murdered my parents for this opportunity, would murder them, and then confess, effectively ruining his chances at making the technology completely and utterly destroying the company and spending 25 years to life in prison? No one's questioning this yay for convenience, which we won't question in all. No one's even thinking to themselves, hey, wouldn't an intelligent man with billions of dollars hire somebody to do it for them. The answer is yes, yes, they would it's just one of the 25 things that don't make sense, like why would a man turn himself in. When the police are nowhere near catching him or even suspecting him, true, I just wrote his name down on the suspect list, but that information hadn't even been released to the news yet, it makes no sense.

I feel disgusted at the fact that no one is questioning this. I don't know, maybe it's because I was there and I know the truth, and the fact that this is not it. Maybe I am overreacting, but I don't think so. The problems with this scenario are blinking like a neon sign. I better leave the room before I scream it at the top of my lungs or get sick because this is how it makes me feel. I wheel out of the room, leaving everyone in their stunned silence their mouths are gaping open like this is the most unbelievable thing that they have ever seen in their lives. I bet you I could top it without even trying. I leave then because I don't want anyone to follow me, and everyone's distracted by closing my parents murder case they haven't even asked or worried about the missing bodies, so I naturally assume that either they found them, or it doesn't matter anymore. The only people I care about seeing now are Barry and Joe, I can't call him dad. It's too weird and way too new. I stop when I get to the conference room where we had our discussion earlier. I open it and go inside and close the door. I think about it for a while, and that's who I want the only person in the world. I want my dad. I want my dad and the only dad I have now is Barry Allen. All at once, my phone vibrates and scares the crap out of me. I grab it and it says new text message I open up my messages and the new text appears from an unknown number. It reads: that was interesting. Wasn't it?

I know you're not supposed to answer text messages from numbers you don't know, but I can't help it. I tap on the message and type: who are you? And I press send.

Seconds later: who do you think I am? I thought you were clever:( those words make me want to jump out of my skin. I know who is texting me, the man in the yellow suit.

I type back: the man in the yellow suit! You are the one behind all of this!

There's my clever girl :-)

I hear a knock on the door and quickly shut down my phone. Barry and Joe come into the room. "Hey, the captain said we could go home and I know you want to go home." They both announce I nod and the three of us had towards the car.

I get transferred into the back seat of the car and Barry sits beside me. "Are you okay?" I shake my head no. The pain in my back was now radiating out to every other part of my body. The pain was a solid 8.5. "You're hurting," he says, clearly concerned. He opens the bottle of pain medication which I can now take, so I take two pills. I curl up closer to dad and start to fall asleep.

I am woken up a few minutes later, by Joe who says, "Iris is here," wait, who is Iris. I am very confused. I'm assuming a person and they're not talking about a flower. They both have really panicked expressions on their faces, which confuses me more is Iris good or is Iris bad?

I probably should ask, "who is Iris?" They obviously hadn't realized I woke up. They look at me like I'm a five-year-old, who just asked her parents. "where do babies come from?"

Joe decides to answer my question. "Iris is my daughter." Okay, I'm not really seeing the big issue with this and then he continues, "and she doesn't know that Barry is The Flash." Okay, now I'm seeing the issue, but Joe continues , "and Iris is dating Eddie and Eddie knows Barry adopted you which he probably told Iris." That's another big problem, so lying is obviously out.

Then to top it all off, "and I am in love with her." Barry states putting the proverbial cherry on the information/issue sundae. Now I'm starting to understand why they have such panicked looks on their faces, so many new connections and relationships and issues. I mean, my goodness, so much drama. It takes a minute for my pain medicated brain to understand and then oh my gosh I 'm his ultimate dream crusher. I am living proof that he doesn't get together with her. I don't think he understands this yet, but I do and it makes me a little sad for him.

"So what are we going to do?" Joe asks nervously, clearly he had liked the idea of his daughter and my dad, that's really weird to say, being together, but I think he knows what I mean in regards to the situation.

A really sharp pain hits me in the shoulder directly about where I was stabbed, presumably because I was leaning against the back of the seat directly where the knot is, which causes me to whimper. Dad immediately takes off his seatbelt. "We're going in the house. She needs to rest," he says, decisively and with that he unlocks the doors and takes my seatbelt off and carries me into the house, and to the bathroom where he changes my clothes and bandage and then puts me on the couch.

About 20 seconds later, a gorgeous African-American woman walks into the living room. She is wearing jeans and a white halter top and gold sweater. The second she sees me, her expression changes, she goes from smiling to frowning and her eyes narrow with a laser like focus on me. "So you're her." She finally says, after about 15 seconds of hard-core staring at me. It's very obvious from the tone in her voice that she has an issue of some kind of with me but nothing I can't fix with a big smile. So I give her a smile. It doesn't help. "Where's Barry?" She demands of me and I am starting to get the feeling that this is not going to go well for anyone. You know that twisted up feeling in your gut when you know you are into something that is going to explode in your face I have that feeling right now. And if there's anything I've learned in the past seven hours, it is to trust your gut.

I am about to point to the kitchen when dad comes in with a bowl of food. "You think you can eat?" Barry asks me, I nod, but point at Iris, whose narrow gaze is now resting on him.

Barry looks at her and smiles slightly. "Hey Iris "he says, somewhat awkwardly clearly not anticipating what he would say to her.

Iris's gaze has changed. It has become more narrow and more focused, which I didn't even think was possible. Her stance has changed as well. Her weight has shifted to her right hip, hands on her hips. She looks like a very angry girlfriend or wife; did I miss the part where they used to date? "Eddie told me what you did, what do you think you are doing?" She asks, the way you would ask that of someone who is getting ready to jump off a cliff for fun. Barry looks shocked at the intensity and the way Iris just approached the situation. I for my part, sink further into the couch, closing my eyes because I do not want to see what's going to happen next.

"I adopted her, because she was going to be in the foster care system and that sucks." Barry lies to her in an attempt to offer an explanation that would hopefully make her accept this decision, even though he doesn't need to explain his actions to anyone. His actions are his own and he doesn't need to apologize for them, especially this because it has not hurt anyone. I get it, though he is in love with her, so naturally he wants her to approve.

Apparently, though, this explanation does not satisfy her, because she rolls her eyes. "You're so young, Barry, what made you think to do this? There has to be something else, I've known you for too long, I know you and I know that there is something more because you are not spontaneous you plan, your careful, and I also know that you been hiding something for weeks. Ever since you woke up from your coma, there has been something different, something you are not telling me." She tells and explains to him. I make the mistake of opening my eyes thinking that the worst is over. Iris looks at us together. "Hold on," she steps closer to the couch and put her hand on Barry's face and looks into his eyes, and studies his face. I immediately know what is going on. She's figuring it out? She leaves Barry and comes over to me and gives me a quick glance. "Oh my gosh! You're her father!" She exclaims, and then runs out of the house. She knows, I don't think she's put two and two together and figured out he's The Flash, but it won't be long.

"What just happened?!" Barry says clearly in a daze about what just happened. He has this shocked expression on his face.

I smile slightly and give his hand a squeeze. "I think she knows dad." I say, laughing at the expression on his face.

"About everything?" Dad asked me, uncertainly raising his eyebrows.

I shake my head, "I don't think so, but I don't think it will be long before she figures it out." I say in response, even though I cannot be sure because I just met her.

Dad sighs and Joe walks into the room. "How did that go?" He says in a hopeful tone adding a hint of a smile.

"She knows!" We answer at the same time I watch his face, drop, and his mouth open.

After several minutes of silence. He closes his mouth and says in a very sarcastic tone, "fantastic!" What happens next is extremely weird I feel a sharp pain in my head that makes me instantly close my eyes I am uncertain if I scream, I probably do.

What I see behind my eyes is terrifying. I am in this room. I think it's a vault standing in front of me is the man in the yellow suit. If that is not terrifying enough, he says, "you shouldn't be in here," he growls in his highly computerized voice. "Especially for Christmas, ha" I try to run, but he cuts me off. "You always have had a knack for being in places where you don't belong" he chuckles and backs me up against the wall. "You're just so curious and intelligent and inquisitive and too smart for your own good. It doesn't help that your immortal." He smiles when he sees my shocked expression "yes, Mallory, I know about that. I know everything about you, Bosnia, Budapest, Russia, Bahrain, Syria, Pakistan," he pauses briefly clearly enjoying the look of fear on my face. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. "I even know about the stunt you pulled in Monaco. Now that was impressive." He whispers to me. My heart stops. No one is supposed to know about Monaco, except The President and Homeland Security. "Do you want to know who I am?" He asks me, he backs away from me and I come around to face him.

"I already know who you are." I announce, not backing down from him, looking him dead in the face.

"I know you know." He says in a tired voice, I knew that. How do I know that? He takes off his mask. His face. He is Dr. Wells "Allow me to introduce myself." He says. Walking towards me and extending his hand. "My name is Eobard Thawne " he finishes with a smirk.

I then noticed that someone is shaking me and I wake up. When I open my eyes Barry is literally right beside me, looking extremely concerned and Joe is standing directly beside the couch, and when I look at him. I see he has the same expression on his face as well. "What happened?" Barry asks, "are you okay? You were screaming!" He tells me, so I did scream, truthfully, I have no idea what happened. That was really, really weird, and scary and difficult for me to explain. "Mallory?" He says getting slightly panicked by my lack of response, I'm trying to speak, but nothing will come out. He grabs my hands. "You're shaking" he says to me. I am. I didn't realize I was but I guess I am. It makes sense my nerves are completely shot at this point. "Tell me what's wrong with you." He begs, running his thumb against my cheek.

I lean into his touch and try my voice again. This time it works. "I don't know." I say. My voice sounds slightly different but he seems content that I said something.

"Do you want to stay here or go upstairs?" He asks me quietly.

I debate for a few minutes, I don't think my body wants to move "stay here, please," I finally decide

"If you need me. I am right here. Okay," I nod, I still haven't stopped shaking. " I'll be right back, I promise, dad can you watch her for a second ?" Joe nods and dad goes upstairs.

"Are you okay, Mallory," Joe asks me, I nod. I think I'm okay, Joe looks at me for a second. "You know that boy, your father. I mean will do anything to protect you, he loves you very much and so do I so nothing is ever going to happen to you." He concludes. He looks at me again. "You do understand that right?" He asks a very much rhetorical question.

I give him a hug. "I love you, grandpa" I tell him.

He smiles and looks at me. "I love you too, but please don't call me that." He replies looking uncomfortable at the new word used to describe him.

"Too bad, grandpa," I tease him with a laugh.

He is laughing too. "Fine, you win, you can call me grandpa" grandpa says giving up and accepting defeat. My dad returns a few seconds later. "Good night, sweetheart I love you" he says, and kisses the top of my head before heading upstairs.

I fall asleep to a round of recurring nightmares about The Man in the Yellow Suit until I am awoken by my phone, which is lighting up like a Christmas tree. A message from an unknown number appears it says URGENT I enter my passcode and unlock my phone. The second I see the message I freeze. There is security camera footage from two hours ago that has my parents on it! What the heck is going on in the caption. It reads operation Firebird: successful status: active and operational, proceed to Phase Two. My phone rings. I almost drop it, the caller ID says, James Anderson, James Anderson, is my ex-boyfriend and my father's number one intern and before you guys freak out. He is 17 he skipped several years of school because he is a genius.

I pick up the phone. "Mallory, good, thank goodness you aren't dead!" That's the way to begin a conversation.

I laugh. "Thank you, James, but is there any particular reason why you're calling me at …" I look at the clock "2 o'clock in the morning." I say man, it is way too early to begin this conversation.

"Um, Um, actually, yes, I am at your father's office and I don't mean to alarm you ," he starts briefly hesitating, "but your parents are alive." He finishes, dropping the bomb on me. Yep, it is way too early in the morning to be starting all this "can you meet me in two hours at the usual spot?" He asks, frantically, he sounds like he is hyped up on energy drinks.

What do I do, I say "of course, usual protocol and code?" Sure, a meeting at 4 o'clock in the morning in this town's only 24-hour diner to discuss my supposedly resurrected parents that sounds fun, it will probably lead to an investigation that could probably get us both killed. But, sure, why not!


	3. What Could Possibly Go Wrong? It's a lot

Chapter 3: What Could Possibly Go Wrong? It's a lot more than you think.

Mallory's point of view.

I get to the diner an hour early, because it's not like I could go back to sleep anyway with the pain, reoccurring nightmares and the new revelation that my parents that I just saw get murdered right in front of me are alive, that task seemed impossible. Not wanting to hang around outside the diner for an hour at 3 o'clock in the morning, especially in a city that has an active nightlife and such high crime rates, I make my way to the door and a young waitress who looks like it is her first day on the job lets me in.

The diner is pretty much in its original design and has not been updated in the 50 years since it opened, it is also quiet and almost empty with only three people inside, not counting me or the waitress. Once I am inside the waitress smiles and asks a surprising question "are you Mallory Ross?" I am slightly confused, but I nod. She smiles and laughs, "James Anderson is waiting for you, he's right there." She grabs a menu, and points to the third table closest to the bay window that has Ruby's 24-hour diner written on it, and there he is, of course, he is.

I follow her and sit down at the table as she places the menu on my left. James Anderson, British spy extraordinaire has always been the picture of punctuality always early and never late. He is tall and muscular. He has golden blonde hair and eyes that are the color of the ocean. He is wearing a blue hoodie and jeans and has his headphones listening to music, probably classical. I tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.

He looks up at me and smiles. "Mallory, you're early. How did that happen?" He asks jokingly making fun of my reputation of being late. I don't do it on purpose. I just never seem to be able to get out of the house on time. "What are you wearing?" James asks, sounding slightly confused remarking on the fact that I am still in my pajamas.

"It's 3 in the morning and we're sitting in a 24-hour diner when normal people, 95.3% of people are at home in bed asleep, so I am sorry that I am in my pajamas." I say sarcastically I get really sarcastic when I'm tired.

James just nods and smiles. "It takes a special kind of crazy to be one of us." He hands me a cup of something on his right. "Drink it," he says to me. I look at him skeptically. "Oh for goodness sakes, Mallory, it's coffee. Do you really think I would bring you all the way down here just to poison you? I ordered that especially for you, you know, I don't drink that stuff!" He's right, he doesn't drink coffee. He prefers energy drinks. So I sip on my coffee. "Better?" He asks I nod, except now I need something to eat because just pain pills and coffee in my stomach is going to be a bad combination. I am about to order when the waitress comes by our table with a plate of 2 scrambled eggs, bacon and toast when she goes to set it down in front of James he shakes his head and points to me, the waitress looks at him funny for a split second, but sets the plate down in front of me, anyway.

I stare at him and then the plate and back up at him. "Are you psychic?" I ask him genuinely, because with all I've seen yesterday, it could very well be true.

James takes it as a joke and laughs. "No, no I don't think so, Mallory, I just know you." I begin eating "as much as I am enjoying this conversation, I think we should get to the matter of your parent's miraculous resurrection." I am in the middle of chewing "don't worry, you can continue eating" he says before continuing his train of thought.

"I was working in your father's office looking over program notes and company records, the investigation had gotten everything out of place and disorganized. It was a nightmare." Why am I not surprised? I give James a look that says, "get to the point." "Oh, sorry, anyways I digress. When I was going through the entry logs, I noticed that your father's key card has been used to access something in "Pandora's box" he says.

I'm intrigued. "Pandora's box" is the nickname for the inventions/programs that only he and a few others, James included could have access to. Usually the inventions in "the box" were too early in development or too ambitious, dangerous or just plain stupid, sometimes a mix of all four. I didn't find it all to a remarkable or hard to imagine that my father would go in there alone.

"It was time stamped two hours after his death, and what's even more interesting is, we didn't have any ongoing projects in "Pandora's box" so I went to check it out and the box was empty, and I was about to leave when I got a text from an unknown number that had surveillance footage of your parents on it. It was time stamped after they died just like the keycode entry. It was labeled."

"Operation Firebird" I cut him off and finish his sentence as I start on my second cup of coffee. He looks at me in amazement. "I got it to" I say with a shrug.

"Do you know what it is?" He asked me, sounding slightly uncertain which makes me confused. Shouldn't he know what it is?

"I think so, isn't it some sort of government contract project?" I half answer half ask back.

James shakes his head. "No, Mallory, I don't think so. We haven't had a project with a government agency in over a year, your father had gone more into the private sector." James says I sit back; this is news to me. James takes a deep breath and sighs, before saying, "and we have no record of any project named Operation Firebird currently or otherwise." He says. "But they're alive because they were on the security camera footage at the office as well, and no one can hack your dad's security system." He says to me, and I would tend to agree with him on that. Excellent. So what I gathered from this meeting is my parents are alive because of some project that the company has no record of, my dad lied about for months, we have no clue what it does, where they are. We don't know if they are brainwashed or if they know everything that's happening or who commissioned the project in the first place. So that is absolutely fantastic, there's my sarcasm kicking in the again.

"I 'm assuming that you want to investigate this." I state James is a member of MI6. That's actually how we met when he was investigating me for MI6, I am a secret agent as well, who is currently retired from A. R.G.U. S., America's secret antiterrorism task force I say currently retired because retirement usually doesn't last too long in the intelligence business. They'll probably end up needing me back honestly, I don't know why I even try. James nods. "On the books or off?" I ask, casually showing my interest.

James laughs. "Off the books, of course, Mallory can you honestly think of the British or American government having the technology to resurrect people? It would be a nightmare."

That's when stuff gets real and I realize the reason why you don't stay out in the city at 3 o'clock in the morning, as well as just the plain gravity of the situation. A dark van pulls up outside the diner, four men get out in tactical gear and are carrying assault rifles. James realizes this, a second before I do, the men start shooting at the window first which instantaneously shatters on contact. James guides me down to floor. I'm covered in broken glass shards. People are screaming, as the men continue their assault on the building. James and I are both aware of what's going on. They're coming after us. James pulls his gun out of his holster and cocks it, and then gives me his other weapon. His laptop bag always has extra bullets. He had it already positioned between the two of us just in case. James and I are fairly good with weapons. We exchange several rounds with the masked gunmen before we hear tires screeching and they pull away. I sit there on the floor, propped up against the table, man am I going to have some PTSD. The place looks like a war zone, amazingly, though no one was hurt. The only other two people have gone home. "Good job, America," he says to me. I smile at my nickname. "We're going to have to go." James remarks as he lifts me and put me back in my chair, "that is, if you're still in."

Am I still in? Was I even in, in the first place? I don't recall saying that I was in before this happened. I guess he just assumed I would be in, and it is rational to assume, based on current events that someone else assumes I am in, so I guess that means I'm in. "Yeah, I'm in. I mean, if they're going to try and kill me, anyway, I might as well be in." I say, conceding to James and God who has apparently decided that I need more excitement in my life, and once again I'm back in the game, see I told you my retirement wouldn't last very long.

A huge smile spreads across James' face. "Excellent. I knew you couldn't resist. Now, come on." He says, leading me outside to the back parking lot, when we reach his company car, which is a Christmas gift from my father from last year, we get in all of the company cars are fitted with wheelchair accessibility per my dad's request.

"Where are we going?" I ask, as we pull out of the parking lot and start driving east.

"Your father's office to see if we can find any hidden files on this secret project of your father's." He answers back paying full attention to the road. I nod, though I doubt that we will find anything about it, especially if James has already searched and found nothing. The other thing that thoroughly convinces me that we will find nothing about this in my father's office is that he is a very smart man. He had kept this hidden for months with no one suspecting anything out of the ordinary. Truthfully, I'm conflicted about going back to my father's office, conflicted about knowing the truth, I'm not sure of what will find out when we look into this and that is scary. By doing this it will open my mind up to something. I don't know what it is, but all I know is whatever is inside that box. Once I open it up. I cannot close it.

I feel a tingly feeling in my right arm, it also feels warm and wet. I glance down, three quarters of the way down my arm, there is this huge cut with a shard of glass in it. "James, I don't mean to alarm you, but I'm bleeding." I say as calmly as I can manage.

"What?" James exclaims, as we pull into the parking lot upon parking the car he comes around to my side flings open the door, "let me see," he says in a very serious tone. I show him my arm, he frowns momentarily. "Don't move, Mallory, I've got something in my bag that will fix this."

He stands up to get his bag from the front seat, he sounds very confident in his ability to fix the damage. He returned a few seconds later and begins pulling out variety of medical supplies out of his bag, I raise an eyebrow. "I try always to be prepared and I wouldn't laugh, because without this stuff you'd be in trouble." I stop because he has a fair point. "Okay, first, I'm going to have to get the glass out." He grabs a pair of forceps and easily removes the glass, next he grabs a bottle of rubbing alcohol and looks at me, "Mallory, this is going to sting" he grabs a little sewing kit and stitches me up carefully. I am amazed at how good he is. Every stitch is small and perfect, "There you are, darling, good as new." He says as he finishes stitching me up. I wheel out of the car and we proceed towards the building, as soon as the building is in view, I feel a chill run down my spine. James notices "are you cold?" I stay silent.

He takes my lack of response as yes, and takes off his jacket and puts it around me. I am so distracted that it takes me a second to notice. "Thank you, James" I say, it's hard to tell in the twilight, but I think he is blushing. Once inside I go straight to my father's office. I've been here countless times, all throughout my life, so I could basically navigate this whole entire building in my sleep. But now everything feels different. The sound my wheels are making on the floor. The way the hallway looks all of it.

When I go past the marble fireplace. I push open the glass doors to my father's office and step inside. The moment I am inside his office; I am overcome by a sense of dread. This is so wrong, what I'm about to do go through my father's belongings and hack his computer. Mallory, you're doing for the right reasons you need to find out where they are, and how it works and make sure that no countries get their hands on this. It's for international security. Oh, the crazy things I tell myself to justify what I'm doing. It works though, I move my father's chair and scoot under his desk and began to work on to his computer.

James appears a few minutes later. "What are you doing?" He asks, sounding quite shocked at the fact that I was already here and working.

I roll my eyes. "Hacking my father's computer to see if there are any encrypted files having to do with Firebird" I say, cringing at the sentence that just came out of my mouth.

"You can do that?" He sounds impressed. "I thought your father's technology was impossible to hack." He says, sounding a touch confused.

"It is to everyone but me." I say, but continue when I realize how conceited that sounds "my dad taught me how to do it when he taught me how to code." I say offering further explanation.

He seems to understand and appreciate the explanation and begins going through my father stuff. "Mallory, where do you think would be the best place to start?" He asks me, for those of you who don't know my father, he has a lot of stuff and there is a distinct lack of organization, at least in a traditional sense. My father's system of organization was done by levels of importance.

The stuff that was most important to him, he kept the furthest away. I know that seems counterintuitive, but my father was a master of reverse psychology and the more well-known he became the more paranoid, he was that someone would take the things, and the people he loved and use them for leverage, something about me being kidnapped four times in my childhood made him get that impression. So he developed this system organization to try and counteract this issue. The crazy part is for the most part it worked, for the most part, his new obsession with rumors psychology and keeping me safe. I didn't get kidnapped at least not that he knew, but you see, by the time I was 10 I had joined A. R. G. U. S., so I was putting myself in danger. I had a **team** of bodyguards and was homeschooled because my father couldn't find a school that he felt like it was safe enough for me to go there. See, I told you it was an obsession.

"Try the bookshelf in the far corner of the room, bottom shelf left hand corner." I tell him confidently.

"That is an extremely specific answer." James says as he walks over to the bookshelf. "This is really far away from your father's desk, are you sure he would put something with that much danger and power in here?" He asks me, this annoys me slightly, don't ask for my help and then question me when I give it to you. The fact that it's far away is what makes it absolutely right, I give him a look that basically says _it's right!_ The second he sees the look on my face. "Okay, just one quick question. My left, or your left?"

This question takes me a second to answer because not only am I hacking the world's most secure technology in the history of mankind, but I am really bad with directions. "You're left."

"You are still as directionally challenged as ever." James remarks through the laughter.

I glare at him. "Shut up, English!" I demand jokingly using his nickname from when we were dating. "I am trying to break through a multilevel decanomial encryption and that would be a lot easier if we could have this conversation later. You know when it doesn't involve my parent's miraculous second chance at life or international security." I say as I ferociously enter data into the computer.

My words, however, do not seem to have the desired effect as James looks up from the bookshelf and directly at me. "You want to have this conversation later?" He asks, his voice is filled with curiosity, and a hint of hope.

Unbelievable. We are in my father's office at 15 minutes past four in the morning hunting for information on some sort of Lazarus device thingy and he is interested and holding out hope for our relationship. I take a few minutes to let that sink and let myself calm down before I answer "yes, James yes, if we both somehow manage to survive this investigation, I will have any conversation with you that you want. Just not now, okay" and with that I return to my work.

"Excellent, I would like that." James says, before he finally returns to going through the stuff on the shelf.

The next 20 minutes, are drown in a dense, heavy and overbearing silence. At this point I have managed to break through all the encryptions and safety measures, which is my personal best for hacking. I am about to celebrate when I met with a screen that I have never seen before. Suddenly the computer says, "hello" and when I say it says "hello," I mean it actually says that in a computerized British accented voice. This immediately causes me to push back from the computer and James to look up in surprise. "Hello?" The computer tries again and then laughs, "I know you are there." Then something even stranger happens, a life-size holographic version of a British woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and rectangular glasses appears wearing what would appear to be a normal secretary's outfit. "Hello, Special Agent Mallory Allen and Special Agent James Anderson of MI6." She says kindly to us.

James and I stare in awe and disbelief. She looks so realistic that it's hard to believe she's a hologram, if she hadn't just come out of the computer you would believe she is a real person. I am the first to recover from this latest shock. "Who are you?" I ask in a voice that I hope isn't too rude.

She tilts her head to the right and blinks as if she is surprised by this question her movements are once again breathtakingly realistic. She straightened her head. "I am Gideon" she states simply, that doesn't help us. I frown. She continues, "I have been expecting you the timeline dictates that on September 5, 2014 Mallory Allen and James Anderson will break into Kelsey drive industries looking for information on "Operation Firebird" you will be successful in gaining and deciphering the information necessary to complete the mission and secure the device." She finishes awaiting the next question.

"How do you know this?" I ask Gideon intrigued to by this new development, but not at all surprised, James stares at her, eyes glazed over in confusion.

Her eyes light up, as she smiles slightly. "It is part of my operational programming to know all major impacting events in the current timeline as well as be an expert on all persons that are integral to the success of the timeline." She states simply satisfied that she has thoroughly answered the question she had been given.

Current timeline what is that supposed to mean? Multiple timelines, as in multiple outcomes do they coexist or are they separate? "Gideon, there are multiple timelines correct?" She nods slightly, "why is it, that you are here trying to keep this timeline intact?" Gideon's eyes light up again, however this time the emotion in her eyes is recognition and fear which she recovers from almost instantaneously. "Someone told me you would ask that." She says her mouth, turning into somewhat of a smile. My heart quickens its beating who told her that I would say that "to answer your question, this timeline maintains the best possible outcomes for the most people." It makes sense wanting to maintain the best situation for the most people. "Download me to your phone." She orders me. "The timeline requires that you do so." She snaps. She definitely takes her job seriously.

I wheeled back under my father's desk and plug in my phone to the computer and download Gideon she then smiles at me and goes into my phone. "Mallory? Seriously we're taking orders from AI now?" James askes me astounded.

He is sitting down in my father's favorite rolling office chair and he has visibly paled. Poor James, I really do feel sorry for the guy. All he was trying to do was help me, and instead, he ended up buying himself a one-way ticket on the crazy town express.

"First, it was not an order. It was a suggestion. secondly, she is from the future and has knowledge of and multiple timelines. Thirdly, she is the AI that was protecting my father's files which means she contains all the files on Operation Firebird and lastly, her name is Gideon." I say in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

"I can still hear you, James" Gideon says suddenly in a motherly tone.

"Mallory, what is going on?" James asks confused, "you just said she's from the future the same way you would say the day of the week you are not the least bit freaked out by the fact that she just said she is from the future?" I shrug it doesn't freak me out, which I guess is a testament to the fact that I've had so much unbelievable in the past 20 hours, that I have grown accustomed to it.

"I don't know." I lie smoothly feeling a little bit guilty in doing so, but I don't even understand this situation myself well enough to explain it to anyone.

James stands up and walks around my father's desk to where I am and leans against the desk. "Mallory," James whispers. I look up at him, why is he whispering we are the only two people in the building.

"What?" I breathe out innocently in a whisper. I still have no idea why we're doing that.

He has put his hand on my cheek. "I want to do something." He says gently running his thumb across cheek. He leans down and his lips meet mine. _He is kissing me! My ex-boyfriend is kissing me!_ The kiss itself is slow and sweet and loving. _I like it. I actually like it a lot. I am kissing my ex-boyfriend in my father's office, yet another thing to cringe about!_

I am about to kiss back when we are interrupted by a familiar voice. "Ahem hello you guys. I don't mean to interrupt this romantic moment but you are about to get ambushed in 30 minutes. The same guys from the diner" she informs us James and I blush. "You all were still aware that I was on right?" she asks us; we stare at her. "Okay, I take that as a no, don't worry, I will perform a memory wipe of that situation." She says awkwardly.

Wait a second, didn't she say something about an ambush? She did, didn't she, oh great. This is just great. "James," I say, looking at him, sweetly as the recognition of what is about to happen, connects with my brain.

"Yes, darling," he says, tenderly leaning down to kiss me again.

"We are about to be ambushed." I say seriously, getting straight to the point.

"Oh, okay. All right, that is excellent." James remarks, pulling away from me. He grabs the laptop case, and gives me my gun.

"Gideon, how many are there?" I ask her going immediately into my operation voice.

"Well, they seem to have learned from their mistake and are sending 12 highly skilled Russian mercenaries." Why does it always have to be the Russians I hate the Russians. "They also have been ordered to kill you, personally, and painfully." That is wonderful, personally, and painfully, so nice of whoever is pulling the strings on this operation. One good thing about that though is no assault rifles in hand to hand combat.

"Are we seriously trusting that thing, from the future?" James asked, clearly perplexed by the whole thing.

"Yes!" Gideon and I both answer at the same time.

James rolls his eyes. "Fine, but I'm keeping my gun!" He puts his gun in his holster and we plan where we are going to stand. Suddenly a barrage of bullets streams through the side window James and I are behind the marble pillars in my father's office. "There's a sniper on the roof." He tells me in a rush.

That's not playing by the rules, not that there is any honor among people in the intelligence community and those in the hitman industry or anything, and the Russians hardly ever play by anyone's rules, but their own. So this doesn't necessarily come as a shock to me more like a disappointment.

James and I stay quiet as we wait for them to search the rest of the building. It takes them 18 minutes' tops which means they are extremely efficient. Suddenly we hear the door unlock three….2… 1. Ladies and gentlemen, it is show time.

They come in the office in groups of four. It turns out It's just like riding a bike, only a lot more violent and exhilarating. It's like I'm seeing what to do behind my eyes, and it's making my body do it. I support myself on the arms of the chair raising my body completely out of the chair and kick him 3 times. One of the men from his security detail is currently trying to choke me. Yeah, no that's not going to happen I grabbed his arm from around my neck and throw him on the ground.

"It still amazes me how you can do that." James yells to me across the room. He is currently fighting one of the guys we saw earlier. James swiftly kicks the guy into my father's desk.

"Thank you, James it took a lot of practice." I say as I take down the last guy from the team that tried to kill us earlier, with a couple of well-timed punches to the face. Unfortunately, like always, there is no rest for the weary, or the wicked.

The second group of poor unfortunate souls that come into the room, have their weapons drawn. They are ready to shoot me, and James but when the leader comes into the room. He does something incredibly stupid. He tells them to lower their weapons. He walks up to me and says "Вы глупо мало инвалидов девушка, просто для удовольствия Давайте посмотрим, вы бороться!" (Translation: you stupid little disabled girl, just for fun, let's see you fight!)

"Вы потеряете ваши достоинства и ваши мужчины." I say confidently. (Translation: you will lose your dignity and your men.)

He stares at me. His eyes narrowing. "Доверие, я люблю его. Я хотел бы, чтобы вы попробуйте, будет бороться в одиночку без вашего Супермен" he says with a smirk (translation: confidence. I like it. You'll fight alone without your Superman?) I nod

James is forced into a chair and his hands are tied behind his back. He is going to be forced to watch me take on eight Russian mercenaries by myself. This should be interesting. It may be the worst decision of my life so far, and that is a competitive field. The first one is relatively easy. He is obviously the newest recruit. It isn't until the sixth one that things get things get interesting. I am put on top of my father's desk, being held down and punched for a couple minutes until I manage to get my leg free to kick him in the face, which effectively shatters his jaw bone.

The last two guys decide to team up. Not a bad plan that is until I get back in my wheelchair. I remember that during my special training, they taught me several moves designed especially for me that would work perfectly in this situation. I once again push myself so I'm out on the seat do a "windmill" kick two guys fall to either side of the wheelchair. That only leaves the guy with his head and upper back positioned on my foot plate. I had built up a lot of forward momentum I swing my legs down and my feet land on his shoulders and he's out like a light.

The remaining guys that didn't want to fight me because they had heard about me and didn't want to be on permanent disability for the rest of their lives free James and run out of the room. I am black and blue and purple and I feel like I went 10 rounds with Mohammed Ali, which is not a good feeling. James walks towards me and cups my face in his hands. "You're amazing, you know that?" James asks a very rhetorical question with a laugh, kissing me gently again.

"You may have mentioned it once or twice, or a few hundred thousand times." I say and start laughing with him and kiss him back.

"Miss. Allen and Mr. Anderson," Gideon's voice sounds again, as we pull away from each other.

"Yes, Gideon" we both respond causing her to clap in excitement.

"He actually used my name. Thank you very much, Mr. Anderson" she says cheerfully.

"Gideon, get to the point." We both chastise her. She sounded really urgent then she got distracted.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She apologizes frantically. "What I was going to say was that the police and news media outlets will be here in 45 minutes so it would be best to leave now." Gideon states we nod and start to head for the door. "Miss Allen, I am also going to do a full data wipe of your father's computer. Everything will be gone, including me. I can't risk this information getting into the wrong hands. You have me on your phone you will be the only person with access to your father's files and to me. Just like it was always supposed to be." Gideon states once again.

We walk out of my father's office, out of the building. Only when we are outside does it truly hit me with the gravity and weight that it probably should. I am the only one with access to my father's files. I am one of only five people they knew who killed my parents really and I am one of only three people outside of my parents that know that they are back from the dead. Another epiphany hits me as I'm getting into the car, sitting up front directly beside James. Without these files my father's company will probably go bankrupt. James can see what I am thinking, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Mallory. Don't worry about the company." He states evenly I give him an uncomprehending look. Jim sighs, "Mallory all your father's projects in those files were stopped when your father died, the new CEO wanted to start fresh build his own ideas." I frown and narrow my eyes. "Don't worry, you're still a beneficiary of the company. Soon you will be receiving a large sum of money from the company every six months." He offers as some consolation.

My father has been dead for less than a day and they have already replaced him wiped out any trace of impact, he would have going forward. That is just the cruel way the business world works. I know he was trying to make me feel better about taking the files but all that made me feel was disgusted.

I fall asleep a few minutes later, I have a much different dream than before, though. It takes place on a ship not like a boat like a spaceship. "Gideon," I hear an unfamiliar British accent say "plot a course for the year 2046." He says. Walking around the console of the ship, looking very unhappy about something.

"Of course, Captain Hunter" I hear Gideon answer back cheerfully.

"Absolutely not! Authority override C – 48 – 97 – X-116-232." I hear my voice say as I wheel on to the ship. Son sit your butt down. I do not give you this time machine so you could go back and change it every bad thing that happens to you. That's not how it works." I command my child.

"Mom, come on, I'm 139 years old and immortal, you can't tell me what to do." He says, exasperated with me.

I give him a look that clearly proves that we have been through this a couple times. "I am 167. I am also immortal and I'm your mother. So yes I can. Sorry son, but no matter how old you get I still will be around to keep you out of trouble and I will always be older." I say, sounding just as aggravated as he is.

"Fine, mom, you win." He says, realizing I am right. He walks over to me. "I love you, mom." He gives me a kiss

"you better love me" I say with a smile on my face. "Go have fun with your wife and my grand baby." He laughs and leaves the ship

"Hey Mom," a second **voice** rings out, but this one sounds American. I see a very handsome tall man that looks a little like James, but he has different color eyes. Wait, does that mean, oh boy, "did you all have that fight again?" He asks, I nod. "He's never going to stop trying to pull rank on you. He says with a laugh.

"But it's never going to work," I say with a sort of melancholy laugh before I turn to him and put my hand on his face. "But not you. You are momma's baby and you never tried to pull rank on me. My sweet little Tyler" he gives me a look of disgust when I mention his name. I then seem to sigh. "Rex" I say, using his nickname, which apparently he likes much better. "You look so much like your father." I say, giving him a smile and a kiss.

He wraps his arms around me, giving me a hug. "I love you too. Mom a lot."

When I wake up I am very extremely confused, what the heck was that? I have kids with James? They are immortal, that's good. It takes me a while to realize I am at home on the couch in the living room. My blanket is on the floor all of the bruising and stitching from last night is exposed, the news is on, and it says _"Night of High-Profile Crimes: Ross Case Connection Probable!_

Oh, I am so screwed. "Good morning, guys." I say, upon waking up enough to form words. I close my eyes and braced for impact.

My dad comes over with breakfast, my second today. "Are you okay," I nod. "Are you sure?" I nod once again. "Mallory. What happened last night?" He asks his voice full of concern. Joe is sitting in a chair to my right, looking like he is ready for anything at this point.

I take a deep breath, there's no way I can lie too many bruises and connections to my parents' murder case, so resigning myself to that fact, I just come out and say it. "I used to be a spy."

And with that everyone's mouth fell to the floor.


	4. The Trouble with Reality

Chapter 4: The Trouble with the Reality!

Barry's POV

"I used to be a spy." Mallory says quietly, in response to my question. My jaw just about fell to the floor. She used to be a spy? Used to be. What does that mean? Who did she work for? Wait, being a spy involves danger and training and danger and weapons and terrorists and mobs. Okay, I'm freaking myself out a little bit right now okay, actually I lied a lot.

I'm caught between a rock and a hard place, figuratively speaking, Mallory telling me she used to be spy didn't answer my question, at least not fully and has created an onslaught of new questions. She looks absolutely exhausted and like she is in a tremendous amount of pain. I'm trying to decide if I should ask her questions. "Mallory, do you feel like you could answer some questions for me?" I ask gently, not wanting to push too hard.

"Oh, okay, sure." She says apprehensively trying to get comfortable. She winces quite a bit before giving up and settling back in her original position. "Go on." She says in a tired voice prompting me to go ahead and ask questions. I struggle to come up with the first question I want to ask her, I have tons and tons, but I don't want one that is too hard for her to answer from an emotional standpoint. "Dad, ask whatever you want. I'm not a porcelain doll I won't break." She says, sounding a little annoyed by my hesitation.

"What do you mean you used to be a spy?" I ask, desperately trying to find a way to ease my confusion and panic, and the only way I can do that is by asking questions.

"I retired," she says simply by the tone in her voice and the way she is looking at me, I can tell there is a story behind it that she clearly does not want to tell me about. I can't help it that worries me. Secondly, who retires at 16? When did she start?

So that is the question I decide to ask "when did you become a spy?"

She mutters something, does some math, gets an answer and purses her lips. "Well," she says nervously. "I started training when I was nine, but technically, I wasn't an official agent until I was 10." 10?! She was 10? 10-year-old girls should be playing with Barbie dolls and dressing up in Disney princess outfits, not running after some sort of international criminal mastermind in a foreign country!

I am confused and startled by this new development. "How does a 10-year-old get recruited by the government to help them catch the bad guys?"

When she hears my question she almost immediately recoils I look at her slightly alarmed by her reaction. I am uncertain whether this reaction is being caused by pain or the question itself. She then takes a minute to regain her equanimity. "Oh, you know the normal stuff, being kidnapped four times and surviving." She says quietly, looking down.

My mind goes crazy imagining my daughter being put into a van drugged and taken to another country. I was seeing all sorts of abandoned or condemned buildings interrogations and torture scenarios. I can feel my blood pumping through my veins. I can hear my heart beating at an accelerated pace behind my ears. Those thoughts make me feel extremely nauseated and angry like I want to punch everyone who ever did that to her. Four times before the age of nine that is insane, it is so incredibly wrong. I feel this big swell of emotion in my chest before I am even fully aware of what I am doing. I am holding her tightly in my arms. I can feel myself not wanting to let her go.

I am scared by how much I love her already, and how much she means to me. It's only been two days and already I am terrified of the possibility of her getting hurt, or sick or being with a boy. I don't want anyone or anything to ever happen to her ever I will take down anyone who even thinks about hurting her "I love you, baby." I say simply, and quietly, kissing her on the top of the head.

"I love you too dad." She replies quietly I smile hearing her confirm what I already knew that it is great when your daughter says she loves you back. I then reluctantly let go of her.

Joe looks at us. "Barry, I think you are missing one incredibly important question, if she is no longer a spy, why was she at the diner and her father's business?" Opps, that question must have gotten lost in the other 50 million questions that are asking themselves all at once in my head right now. That is a really good question though I look over at Mallory, who looks conflicted about answering this question, Joe and I exchange looks he had noticed it also.

The question hangs in the air for several minutes. Joe and I watch her go back and forth about the best way to answer the question. "All right," she says, letting out what appears to be all manner in her lungs. "About 2 o'clock in the morning I get a call from one of my former contacts, they said they had gotten in a little too far over their head, and that they were in desperate need of my help and expertise because that case was related to one of the cases I had worked on shortly before I left my agency. They asked me to meet them at the diner, which was the usual meeting spot where we used to do business. They sounded really freaked out, so I went just to give them some information and help them out.

We got ambushed by four men and tactical gear and carrying assault rifles. We exchanged a couple of rounds with the gunman and they drove away. We left the diner because we didn't want to compromise the mission. It's vital to international security and no, I can't tell you what it is because technically speaking, I'm not even supposed to know what it is. Anyway, we left and went to Kelsey Drive Industries because I had left the files related to the last case, I worked on in a secret compartment in my father's office and my files were needed to see the list of suspects from the case. Apparently the men had followed us to the building without my knowledge and we ended up having to fight them." She finishes answering the question.

Hold on, she got ambushed, shot at, chased and beat up. Joe and I look at her astounded. "Is this true?" I say in a state of shock. She nods and puts her hand over mine. "You are not going to continue, doing this sweetheart, you are done with this mission," I say firmly determined in my stance on this issue.

She pouts at me, "but daddy, the bad guys have already seen me so they're going to come after me, no matter what, and besides my friend is going to need help and I owe them one. Plus, you get to do your superhero thing and I have more experience with bad guys than you do. Are you really going to let 7 ½ years of training and work go to waste? International security dad. The world needs me to do this for as long as I can." She whines and begs, she is incredibly good at this, so good, that it is actually kind of scary.

She certainly doesn't need any assistance from anyone in that regard. But then something that completely knocks me for a loop happens. "She does have a point!" Joe says, snickering at me a little at how this is playing out. He is clearly enjoying this a lot more than I want him to. _For real, Joe_ , I think I can't believe that he is taking her side when he fought with me for weeks about me becoming The Flash and I am 25 and have super speed. Yet he thinks it's acceptable for his 16-year-old granddaughter to be a spy. Unbelievable. This is unbelievable. "When the universe wants something to happen. It has a way of working those things out." Joe adds more evidence to the let Mallory be a spy side of the argument.

"Don't forget God!" Mallory says, looking at me sweetly.

Great, just great. Now I'm up against an incredibly cute acting daughter, my dad, God, and the universe. I should just quit while I'm ahead. "Okay, fine. You can continue being a spy." I say, conceding to all my opposition against my better judgment.

Mallory's eyes light up and she smiles a huge smile of victory. "Thank you, dad. I love you so much." She tells me, making sure to stay on sweetness overload before crashing into me for a massive hug.

"I love you too, Mallory," I say as I happily return the hug once I release her and she is in a comfortable position. I change my facial expression "because I love you, there will have to be ground rules or protocols, so I can make sure you stay safe." She laughs, then nods. "First of all, you cannot leave on a mission without informing one of us or someone we trust that knows about me being the flash, meaning Caitlin, Cisco or Doctor Wells." I tell her, feeling extremely awkward in my new position, laying down the law.

She tries to hide it, but I can't help but notice how she shifts uncomfortably and begins shaking slightly when I mentioned Doctor Wells. This puzzles me, but I shake it off as merely a coincidence. I then turn to my dad. "This is all your fault, and if anything, happens to her. I blame you."

He just smiles back. "You think I'm being funny, but I'm serious." I say, frustrated that he is not taking it as seriously as I am.

"Chill, Bear nothing bad is going to happen to her. She has years and years of experience, and she is also your daughter and my granddaughter, so she is a glorified butt- kicking machine." Dad says calmly, how is he being so calm about this? Is it possible that he knew about this beforehand?

"Yeah, dad have a little faith in me!" She says smiling. Once again, dad is not helping the situation at hand. I think that's why he is doing it. I think he enjoys messing with me.

"I have nothing but faith in you Mallory" I say, she looks at me like she's waiting for the inevitable but in that sentence. "It's just the other people that I don't have much trust in, you know, the international terrorist organizations and drug lords and mob bosses and corrupt politicians." I say, hoping to make sure she knows that I believe in her. Is she rolling her eyes at me? Oh my gosh she is. I give her a disapproving look and she just laughs, which just makes me laugh.

My cell phone rings. "Good morning, Barry, we've got a new meta-human, and she is ready to party." Cisco's voice says excitedly as soon as I pick up the phone. "And bring super baby, Caitlin and Doctor wells and I want to run some tests on her to see if she is a meta-human too." I can almost feel him wince as he listens to what he just said, "and get to know her too." He says quickly trying to erase the weirdness of what he had just said.

I hang up the phone. "Central City needs The Flash" I say, no matter how many times I do this excited. "I'm going to Star Labs; they want you to come as well." I say directing the statement to my daughter.

"Okay, I just need to get dressed first." She says as I help get off the couch and ready to go. I use my super speed to get her dressed, having super speed is a good thing because this makes it less awkward. She looks impeccably dressed as always, she has a good sense of style which she definitely did not inherit from me. She is wearing a purple top and Navy skirt with matching heels, she grabs a pair of flats to put in her bag, "they want to run tests on me to see if I have abilities, right?" She asks. But the tone in her voice makes this out as a statement rather than the question.

"Yes, I think so." I say, giving her confirmation, although I doubt she needs any. She nods quickly as if she was expecting the answer. "What is the change of shoes for?" I ask her curiously as she searches for something in her purse madly and then appears to find it.

She smiles mischievously. "For later." She says simply, before holding up the item she was searching for. I have to do a double take when I see what she is holding it's a leg holster for a Glock that looks like a garter "just like this." She says as she puts it on and then slides the gun into its proper place. She then readjusts her skirt. She sees the look on my face. "Don't worry dad, I'm not planning anything. It's just in case" I have a feeling that "just in case" really means "more than likely going to happen."

Mallory's Point of View.

We are in Star Labs in a matter of seconds. We are in the cortex the same area where I woke up. All three members of the team are present, but Doctor Wells is the first to notice our arrival. "Good morning, Mister Allen and the newly discovered Miss Allen, I trust last night went well." He says, greeting us warmly with a hint of a smile

. I'm a spy. I am trained to read people, discern people, get a detailed picture of a person's character in a matter of seconds to be able to get what is needed from a person to best serve the United States government or sometimes the world. My deductive skills have gotten to such a point and are so innately ingrained in my being at this point that I can't turn it off. I am constantly deducing things about the people and situations around me all the time and I have a very high accuracy in doing so. When I look at Harrison Wells I know that something is off, he is paying extra attention to his body language, his words even his breathing. It is almost like he's afraid that deduction is going on so he is taking great care to present a certain set of things. It's a manufactured read though not natural which means he is hiding something.

Cisco and Caitlin turn around in their chairs. Cisco gets up and walks over to me when and smiles. "Mallory, you look hot today!" Oh my gosh, did he actually just say that everyone immediately looks at him in disbelief. "I mean; you look pretty good." He says, trying to correct his faux pas. We cringe again. "I mean, you look pretty," he babbles nervously, we stare at him.

"Mister Ramon, you are digging yourself a pretty large hole. Might I suggest that you walk away before things can get any worse!" Doctor Wells says clearly interested in ending this extremely awkward conversation. Cisco nods, mutters an apology to my dad and goes to sit down at his desk. "Now that we've gotten that incident behind us, Mr. Allen kindly go and save the city from a human bomb." He says, offering the polite version of get your butt out of here to my dad.

My dad changes into his suit/uniform. "I love you, Mallory, have fun. Okay," I nod. He gives me a kiss before speeding out the door.

Once my dad leaves, the team surrounds me, and Dr. wells starts talking. "As you know, Mallory, the particle accelerator explosion gave your father, amazing abilities." He pauses briefly and Cisco mouths, they are powers. He then continues, "these abilities/powers change your father at a cellular level, meaning that his "stuff" may be able to pass on new abilities/powers to any offspring and we would like to test you to see if this is true or not." I nod, "do you have any objections to us doing this." I shake my head no, but it is so nice to be asked. "Excellent," he offers me a big smile and I offer him one back, hoping to keep things amicable between us until I can find out what's really going on.

"Okay, Mallory, what we are going to do is inject you with something that will activate any genes you have that would lead to abilities." Cisco and Caitlin inform me.

She is about to inject me when Dr. Wells says, "stop" they look at him in confusion. "The genes have already been activated." I look at him astonished and somewhat scared. "Mallory. Tell me what I am thinking right now." How am I supposed to do that? I think, and then suddenly I can hear voices, their voices inside my head. Although no one is saying anything. "You're thinking about my accelerated healing" I breathe out amazed at myself.

"That is correct, Miss Allen, just for fun, let's try something to prove that was not a lucky shot, or that I am just that easy to read. Everyone think of one word only rule is; it has to be an actual word in the English language. No tricking her." Everyone nods in agreement. "Whenever you're ready Miss Allen," he says patiently waiting.

Everyone's voices fill my head, and I'm not talking about just the three of them. I mean hundreds and thousands and millions and billions of voices. I can hear the whole world at once. I take a minute to focus in on the specific voices that I need to hear "enigma, for you, Dr. wells." I say, smiling, and he smiles back, letting me know that I am correct, I then turn to face Caitlin and Cisco, who is impatiently tapping his foot. "Miracle, for Caitlin," she nods. "Xavier for you. Cisco and yes, I do understand the reference" his face lights up like a Christmas tree.

"At the rate you heal you and your father are more than likely immortal" he says. I must not look surprised enough, because he asks, "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

He is intrigued, all of them are they pull up chairs and sit around me like it's story time in kindergarten. "That's what happens when an agency tries to shoot you in the head, and the bullet goes through your brain and you don't die. When you wake up in a hospital room with 10 of the world's best doctors looking at your MRI, which shows no visible trauma, except for the damage incurred by the aneurysm you suffered when you are three hours old. Then there is the shouting and every test known to man being done on you, all of which concludes that your cells are regenerating at such a rapid rate that nothing known to man can kill you. There is not one thing in the world's vast and hastily growing arsenal that can kill you, not even old age."

They look at me with awe and admiration, and slight pity. Cisco looks at me and is the first to speak. "What happened then, you said something about an agency trying to kill you, what was that about?" His mind practically exploding with questions for me that demanded answers.

I decide to tell them because I'm technically back in the game anyway. "There was this "national security summit" held a few days later in Washington DC. Really, it was just to talk about me and what they wanted to do." I take a pause before continuing. They all look at me genuinely interested and slightly afraid "they wanted me under contractual obligation to the United States government, as part of this agreement, I would only act when the government deemed it necessary and I would not be able to participate in any situation without government consent without being reprimanded. They wanted a lifetime guarantee, which in my case, means forever."

They shake their heads. "Please don't tell me you signed that agreement!" Dr. Wells says earnestly they all have horrified looks on their faces.

"No, of course not. I mean, I love America and everything, but I am also aware that they, like every other country in the world have a secret agenda, and I don't want to be a part of that.".

Everyone seems to calm down and then Dr. Wells seems to have a jarring thought, "did you by any chance meet a man called General Wade Eileen?" He seems nervous rushing the words out of his mouth. General Wade Eileen, of course, how could I forget the man that was the most intent on that contract being signed, and was less than cordial when I refused to sign the agreement. But why did that matter now? "Miss Allen," his voice snapping in a panic. "Are you all right?"

The urgency in his voice tells me that I should answer. "Yes, Dr. wells. I know General Eileen," I answer him in a clear, straightforward way.

My answer causes the panicked expression on his face to grow and spread around the room. "And I am guessing that he was less than cordial to you when you refused to sign the agreement." He states the question like a confirmed fact, one that we both know to be true.

"If that's what you call threatening to put a person on the FBI's most wanted list and make their life a living Jason Bourne film and hunt you down until you are compliant, then yes." I say sarcastically with a little bit of a laugh.

This causes him and everyone else in the room to laugh before the mood turns dark and almost dangerously serious. "Of course Eileen couldn't act on his threats because of your mothers and fathers enormous influence, and wealth, not to mention the exposure to media" he then pauses and adjusts slightly. He pursues his lips, takes a deep breath. "But now, now that your parents are gone.…" There is a noticeable hesitation.

I know what it means "he'll try to fulfill his promise." I finish his statement point-blank, putting in an extraordinary amount of effort to keep myself from laughing or crying, this has been a whirlwind the past day and a half man has it only been a day and a half, and it shows no signs of slowing down round and round it goes, where it stops nobody knows.

"That is correct, Miss Allen and unfortunately for you, it is only going to get a heck of a lot worse." He says to me evenly, he's kidding right, right? The longer I look at his face more I can tell he's not kidding.

"Great, because I was just now starting to calm down from the whole being stabbed and searched and interrogated only to be shot at, chased ambushed and beat harder than a piñata, 17 hours later thing! I was just saying how nice it would be if I can get some more action like that in!" I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. The team gives me confused looks. It is then I realized they had no idea about my former endeavors and employers being the US government. "It is an insanely long story, but the short of it is I used to be a spy."

Cisco is the first to recover "oh my gosh, seriously," he asks, I nod. "This is awesome you are my hero." He says excitedly clapping his hands like a kid in a candy store.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Ramon you don't have time to fanboy out, but because we have more pressing matters at hand with this General Eileen business." Dr. Wells says curtly. The way he says that is serious, somewhat harsh, but very effective.

Cisco looks slightly stunned at the directness of Dr. Wells, but quickly recovers and nods, and with that Dr. Wells turns to exit the center room. Out of curiosity, I decide to follow him. I stay back a little way before approaching him, I decide to go with the "confused intern" routine, that one seemed the most relatable to the current situation. "Dr. Wells," I call doing my best to sound awkward and uncomfortable with the current situation.

He stops in the doorway of his office and looks at me. "Yes, Miss Allen" there is a slight hint of inpatients in his voice and in his eyes there is a hint of something that I cannot place. He backs up from the doorway to let me into his office. I go inside, not only because in order for the situation to continue, I must go inside, but because I want an opportunity to try and get a better read on him.

His office is immaculate, spotless, completely organized, perhaps a little too much. I park my chair beside his desk. He closes the door and I hear the lock engage. He then moves and parks his chair on the right-hand side of me. "Miss Allen" his voice is quiet, yet it startled me. I wasn't aware in till this moment that I had totally zoned out. He laughs slightly at my reaction. "I'm not that scary, am I?" He asks playfully I shake my head, "no," when on the inside. I am thinking yes, yes, 1 billion times, yes, you are giving me all kinds of creepy vibes and red flags. "Anyway, what was your question?" He asked, returning to his normal serious tone.

"Um…" I struggle to find my train of thought. I then find it in a pile of "burning questions," that have entered my brain, in the last 24 hours. "How exactly is Gen. Eileen connected to this case?" He gives me a funny look. "You never did explain" I say, hoping I am maintaining a clear and even tone. I make it a point to maintain constant eye contact with him not staring him down, but firmly enough, so he knows that I am serious.

Dr. Wells for his part, is or does a good job pretending to be taken aback by the tenacity in which I asked this question, the expression on his face so close so real that I almost don't catch the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips that disappears a millisecond afterwards. He breathes deep and exhales. "As fate would have it, the meta-human that your father is currently hunting down has a relationship with General Eileen." The facts are laid out. I start to get this feeling in my gut that he knows more than he is letting on. So I try my new ability of reading minds and I am met with a brick wall, he is blocking off his thoughts, and it is hurting me. I don't know how he is doing it. "Anything else Miss Allen," he asks kindly, smiling ever so slightly at me.

I debate for a while about what to say, but then decide to go for the direct approach. "I know you're hiding something!" I say coolly and confidently.

Call me crazy, but I was expecting some kind of push back some sort of "I don't know what you're talking about," or other bull crap like that. His face drops and he nods. "You're right, Mallory, I am hiding something, in fact, I am hiding many things." His smile widens, as he looks into my eyes. "I am a man of many interests and endeavors, some flawed, some failed and some successes, but working with Gen. Eileen was perhaps my greatest failure in my life, aside from the particle accelerator explosion" he says, dropping his head in shame.

"What were you working on?" I do this, partly out of curiosity, and partly because Gen. Eileen to reputation with advanced technology is quite scary because he's definitely got one or two screws loose.

A look of shame forms on Dr. Wells' face, he takes a deep breath. "I suppose I should tell you before Gen. Eileen does it for me.". He backs out from his desk and goes to one of the filing cabinets in his office produces a file from the top door and heads back to his desk.

I am very confused by this resignation and raise an eyebrow. "Why does it matter? This has nothing to do with me." Impertinence and confusion clear in my voice, and in my mannerisms patience has never really been one of my virtues.

I am sitting directly across from him. He stares at the file for several minutes, saying he looks intent to burn a hole through it. He then looks up at me with a somber luck and a melancholy smile. "It has everything to do with you Miss Allen," the confusion in my eyes quickly intensifies tenfold.

He passes the file to me as soon as I see it, my mind explodes into 20,000 more questions! There on the file is printed Ross, Mallory. I don't ask, I never ask when things have my name on them, I open it, inside is everything about me, pictures of me from all stages of life, my medical history, psych evaluations, mission reports. I look up at him and try to keep calm. "How the heck do you have a file on me?"

He goes around to sit beside me. "About two years ago Star Labs was granted a contract with the American government, in particular the Department of Defense." I look at him impatiently wanting him to continue. "Gen. Eileen was interested in enhancing the human race to give us an advantage in fighting the War on Terror, enhanced strength, speed, durability and telepathy for enhanced interrogation techniques. I was interested only for the potential benefits for humanity as a whole. Throughout our experiment we found that there was this particular gene that could be stimulated by something to produce superhuman capabilities.

General Eileen started to suspect you have the gene after your performance review. He brought me this vile of your blood and had me personally test it. It came back that you did have the gene and not only that, but it was active. He became obsessed with the idea of a superhero army to protect the earth and do America's bidding. When I saw how obsessed he had gotten, I pulled the plug, I refused any more government funding and I told him that if he ever wanted the files that I would testify in court about some of his dirtier dealings. I was a fool to believe that he would not be able to find some other scientists who would be willing to trade their souls for a paycheck." The note of disgust in his voice seems genuinely real. "After that I packed up all the files in the project and put them in here. And never visited them again until the meta-humans started appearing after the particle accelerator explosion. Most of the people that became meta-humans have that gene, " with that he finishes looking at me, waiting for me to say something.

"You knew about me the whole entire time?" He nods, "about everything?" I ask with a bit of an edge in my voice and raising one eyebrow. He looks confused. I narrowed my eyes and say "did you know that Barry was my dad?"

At this question, he tenses up there is some noticeable hesitation before he says, "yes, Miss Allen" he sighs and closes his eyes. "Yes, I did know that Mr. Allen was your father, but I didn't tell him, because you were adopted and it seemed like you were relatively safe as I never could have guessed that your father's rival would find out who you are and come after you and kill your parents."

I shake my head. That's the trouble with the reality. You can't always get what you want, you can never know who to trust and in reality you never know who is pulling the strings and there are no do overs. "Just one more question, dark matter is the stuff that activates the gene right? And the only way to create dark matter is through a particle accelerator explosion..." I trail off.

Dr. Wells immediately noticed what I am insinuating "Miss Allen, if you are insinuating that I caused the particle accelerator explosion on purpose to create the meta-humans, I can assure you I did not. I am not a good man by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm not an insane power-hungry, bloodthirsty idiot like General Eileen" he has obviously taken great offense to the fact that I speculated that about him.

I shrug and turn to leave when he reaches out his hand and grabs my arm, stopping me from leaving. I look at him in annoyance and confusion. His grip is surprisingly strong. "Miss Allen. I truly think that it may be in your best interest, as well as the best interest of everyone in the building, if you go home and are not here when Gen. Eileen arrives." I look at him, appalled is he seriously asking me to go home and lay down when someone is after me?

He continues, "to Eileen you are the single most important person in the world. That means you need to go because he will stop at nothing to get you at this point. Mallory, if he sees your new abilities that has the potential to be very catastrophic and we don't want him finding out your dad is a meta-human with super speed. Which probably means he doesn't need to be here either." I say nothing to him, just head toward the cortex.

At that moment my dad returns as we make our way back to the cortex, we hear something along the lines of "my suit went kaboom!" In a very frustrated Cisco sounding voice.

My dad smiles when he sees me. "Hey, Mallory! Cisco told me what you can do that is so awesome and so scary at the same time." His smile is quickly taken away when he sees the look on my face. "Mallory, what's wrong?" He asks me quietly walking towards me, bending down to look into my eyes and placing a hand on my cheek. "Are you okay, baby?"

I lean into his touch and nod slowly. "Yes, dad, I'm fine. I promise." My voice is still slightly shaky on account of the information I had learned just moments before. My dad looks at me slightly skeptical, "but we are about to have problems… major problems." My dad and the rest of the gang, except for Dr. wells look at me with confusion and interest. "I have a very complicated relationship with Gen. Eileen, meaning he's obsessed with me." I say quickly trying to explain it to the rest of the team.

Dad looks shell-shocked, Caitlin shakes her head uncomprehendingly and Cisco raises his hand. "Mmm, yeah, I have just got really quick question, are you going to become a superhero and help us kick some major bad guy butt? Please say yes. Please say yes." He begs, causing me to laugh and smile and nod. "Yes!" He says, leaping out of his chair with unbridled excitement. "Hold on, I will be right back. I will be right back. I just have to go get something for you real fast, don't move." He says in a serious tone, before laughing and smiling. "This is going to be epic! You're going to love it!" With that, he leaves the room to go off and get whatever it is, and I share a nervous glance with my father, who looks just about as nervous as I am. "Okay, Mallory, are you ready for this?" Cisco asks excitedly, I don't know. Am I ready for this? What exactly is this?

"Yes. Cisco. I think I am ready for this." He brings a plastic mannequin around that has exact dimensions. On the mannequin is a very feminine looking version of my father's suit essentially, it's a dark purple cat suit with a highly corseted top that actually looks really pretty cool. "My lady, may I present to you your very own suit made by yours truly, what do you think? "Cisco asks anxiously.

To prolong his anxiety, I raise an eyebrow. "mm... I don't know." I tease him playfully his shoulders droop and he sighs sadly. I laugh and smile. "I'm kidding Cisco, it's perfect. I love it." I give him a hug and he relaxes, I can't help it. I have to do it. It's imperative "just like you." I whisper to him; he turns bright red.

"I've got a question; why does it have to be so tight?" My dad is not sounding too thrilled about the formfitting design of this outfit.

Cisco looks like a deer caught in the headlights. I decide I have to step in and save him. "Dad, he's protecting my vital organs by compressing them. It allows more room to take damage without you know dying." I use my expert voice to make it sound like I know what I'm doing, and it's totally legit."

Dad doesn't look like he believed me. However, he decides to let it go. "Miss Allen, I would recommend you get in your suit before the crew from M. A. S. H., shows up." Dr. wells suggest in the same way he asked my father to get his butt out the door earlier. I decide that's a good idea and put on the suit.

When I walk into the cortex wearing my uniform Cisco places something in my hands. "I almost forgot this is part of it." I look down and see a mask with the same color purple, as my suit with silver glitter accents. A smile forms across my face. "I figured we couldn't have people knowing your real identity with the you being the former daughter of two rich billionaires as well as the current daughter of the cities forensic scientist people might get suspicious. I mean, it may not work on Gen. Eileen, but it will work for later."

I decide to put the mask on anyway so I can get the full effect of my outfit. "What do you think?" I asked backing up to let him see the outfit in full.

He looks me up and down a few times and then puts his hand on his head. "I honestly can't think of an answer to that question that doesn't get me in trouble!" He is blushing again. This time however it is tomato red.

This causes me to smile again. "Thank you, Cisco for everything," he smiles. "You know what, come here." And with that I give him a kiss on his cheek, making sure to leave a lipstick mark.

He smiles widely and touches his cheek. "Anytime, Mind Maiden" I give him an inquisitive look. "It's your superhero name." He says with a nervous laugh.

I smile widely. "I like it." He smiles back at me before turning back around to face the computer.

His eyes widen in shock and fear the second he sees the screen. "Um, guys, I hope you're ready for this because Gen. Eileen just arrived with 30 of his closest goons and they are packing some very heavy artillery, and I'm talking like Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare level stuff!" Cisco informs me, panic rising steadily in his voice.

I know what I have to do. I turn to my dad, "dad, get them out of here, take them as far away as possible, and stay with them." I tell him he gives me a pained look. "Dad, please do it. He will only use them as leverage to force me to come with him." He gives me a huge look of protest, but then sighs and nods. "Don't worry dad. I'll be fine. I got this."

Dad walks over to me. "I love you." He says, giving me a hug.

"I love you too." I whisper as I return the hug. "Now go," I tell him playfully pushing him away. He grabs Caitlin Cisco and Dr. wells in a matter of seconds before speeding off. _I've got this. I've got this. I've got this. I hope!_

The elevator opens general Eileen and his crew of presumably brainwashed soldiers step off the elevator. They are in a four – two – five formation, meaning four people in the front, two people in the middle and five people in the back for the first two groups and the last group is holding a three-two -three formation. General Eileen is in front of them. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Mallory Ross, long time no see!" He says, clapping his hands, then he looks me up and down. "Nice outfit, it really makes your eyes pop"

"Not nearly long enough Eileen and do you have nothing better to do then be obsessed with and ogle at teenager?" I tease him, although I'm really starting to wonder if it is true.

The general looks less than amused at my comments, but doesn't answer them. "Look, Mallory, why don't we just do things the easy way and you bring your pretty little self over here and come with us." He says, invitingly and slimily as he signals his men to lower their weapons. "Come on, Mallory, you know it's the right thing to do." He says baiting me.

I laugh. "No thanks, I'm not interested in any deal that had your name written anywhere in it or takes away my free will. Besides, we both know you can't kill me. Plus, I'm going to guess your acting outside the law on this one, meaning anything you do here will get reported to the president and you will lose your job, just like you've lost everything else." I say, causing him to glare at me. "Come on Eileen you know it's in the best interest of everyone, especially those on your side if you just admit you've got nothing to play and walk out of here," his glare intensifies at me.

"Fine, have it your way" he says, turning to his troops. "Shoot her, shoot her now!" Gen. Eileen orders of them. They already their weapons and fire. I put my hands up to stop the bullets out of instinct. Then everything stops, no literally everything stops the bullets freeze a few inches from my body held in suspended animation. I look around to see the whole entire room is like this. Almost like it's frozen… Wait a minute… Did I just… I think I did… Holy crap I froze time! I quickly slide myself and everything else valuable out of the way.

Now the million-dollar question is how do you unfreeze time. Okay, Mallory, let's think about this logically I was thinking how I needed time to stop when it stopped, so maybe I just think I don't know resume or go to get time moving again. It's worth a shot. And sure enough, it works.

Eileen and his men look extremely confused. "You didn't tell them who I was, did you?" Eileen's men shake their heads. I laugh warmly enjoying this ever so slightly and roll my eyes. "Of course you didn't," I laugh a little more. "Okay gentlemen, let me introduce myself. My name is Mallory Nora Allen, formerly known as Special Agent Mallory Ross and no you are not crazy. What you just saw actually did happen because in addition to being a former secret agent to the United States government, I am also an immortal with superpowers and general Eileen has been hunting me down against numerous orders from the President of the United States to stand down when I was forced into retirement after refusing to sign the now infamous order 64." I say with a bit of a smirk.

Immediately all of his men drop their weapons and walk out of the building, leaving only General Eileen and me. "This isn't over, Miss Allen!" He says defiantly.

I just smile and reply calmly, "oh, I think it is General Eileen" his cell phone rings, his face pales and I know I am correct he gives me one more quick glare before taking the call and exiting the building.

My dad then speeds up into the room. "Mallory, how did you get this done so fast?" My dad partially asked partly exclaims, sounding very impressed.

"New ability… Pretty cool. I'll tell you about it later " I tell my dad happily

"That's awesome, Joe invited Iris and Eddie over for dinner over for dinner, so we should probably get going in for going to be there on time. Hey, wait, are you okay because you don't look okay? He asks, tenderly bending down to take off my mask. As soon as he sees my face. He says, "you are sick, have you been sick this whole time?" I feel fine. What is he talking about?

"Dad, nothing is wrong with me. I feel perfectly fine." I say highly confused by this situation.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart." I'm very confused, I am not lying. He looks in my dad eyes, "you still don't look like you feel very good at all. Come here," I do as I'm told, although I am still not understanding what exactly is going on here. "You feel warm. I think you might have a fever." He frowns. "I'm going to call Grandpa and tell him that he may have to cancel the dinner with Eddie and Iris."

Oh, okay, that's what's going on here. I get it. Dad does not want to have dinner with Iris and Eddie because of what happened last night! I get it. I get it. I totally get it, but it's not like he can avoid her forever. I say her and not them because I don't think that Eddie is the problem. I think it's more Iris that he is trying to avoid probably for dream preservation reasons. If he doesn't see her, he doesn't have to see that she won't approve of me being his daughter even with the fake explanation which means I doubt she will accept the real one. So him avoiding her is his way of keeping this fantasy alive. It's a fairly good plan, aside from the fact that it's not sustainable. However, now it's time to fulfill my job as the reality check. "Dad, you know, you can't avoid her forever."

Dad looks at me with a confused look on his face. "Honey, what are you talking about, I'm not avoiding anyone! I think your fever is making you have trouble with reality." He puts his hand on my forehand. "Yep, I'm totally calling Joe, there's no way we can have that dinner." He says, getting out his phone, seriously.

Okay, I guess we're doing this the long way around. That's fine. I can play the game as well. "Dad stop. We both know that this is about Iris, and what happened yesterday." I say, taking a deep breath. "Look dad. I hate to break it to you but you and Iris are never going to get together, I mean at some point in the future or in the past. It's really complicated the point is at some point you will time travel to the past and meet my mother and have me and I don't think you would do that if you and Iris were together." Dad looks up at me, with sad eyes that makes me hate myself, but he looks like he's slowly come to realize the fact. "But that doesn't mean you can avoid her forever… You and her are family which means we all will have to find a way to live with each other, even if she can't accept me because that's what family does." I say, concluding my reality check/pep talk.

"How did you get to be so wise?" My dad asked me a mix of sarcasm in awe in his voice.

I laugh. "Let's just say I have some experience in that department. You know the kind of dysfunctional family, you get when your uncles and aunts are jealous of your father's success and are always yelling at him to get a bigger stake in the company." I say, before grabbing his hand. "Come on, dad, we are going to be late for dinner and I'm hungry."

We reach the house in a matter of minutes when we entered the house, we see that Iris, and Eddie are already at the table with Joe. I take my seat at the table next to dad and across from Iris. "Hey, Mallory did you have a good day at Star Labs with your dad?" Eddie says kindly trying to make small talk and keep the situation, lighthearted, and friendly which I appreciate greatly.

"Yes I did, Eddie, thank you for asking." I say having a smile on my face that is, until I see Iris's face is hosting an icy glare that would rival the Ice Queen from Narnia that is aimed directly at me, I instantly look down and focus on nothing but and keeping my mouth closed except for when I am inserting the food that is on my plate into my mouth.

The dinner continues as normal, since I have elected to play the quiet game with myself and so far I am winning. The conversation has shifted from work to the city's new construction and nightlife. There have been no major arguments or blowups from anyone at the table and I am almost done eating, so I am about to put this in the one in the win column. When Eddie asks, "so, Barry, what school is Mallory going to?"

My dad smiles clearly unaware of the impending explosion that is going to occur as soon as he answers the question "actually, Mallory's not going to school because due to her private tutoring that she received because of her parents. She graduated two years early and is currently pursuing her doctoral degree in forensic psychology online at Harvard University on a full academic scholarship." He says proudly beaming at Eddie, his mouth has dropped and he is now mouthing the word, doctorate my dad continues smiling and nods. Iris has dropped her fork in her plate and it makes a clanging sound.

Here it comes braced for impact. "Of course she is… Because she's perfect" she says in an agitated voice. "Mallory, Mallory, Mallory, can you all just shut up about Mallory… She's annoying and even more than that it is wrong. It is just plain wrong. She doesn't need to be a daughter to someone who is 25. Especially you." She says angrily, I feel my dad's hand latch onto mine protectively under the table, "this just for the record, is the craziest family in the city." Can't argue with her, there and with that she storms off. Eddie cast an apologetic look our way, mixed with one of shock, before picking up his jacket and running off after her.

Well that went well. I start regretting not letting dad cancel dinner. Dad and grandpa exchange saddened as they clean up the table. Dad gets a call on his cell phone. "On my way." He says, before hanging up the phone. "Apparently the human bomb has decided to blow up the waterfront, so I will be right back." My dad says, before speeding off to take on the methuman he faced earlier who blew up his suit apparently.

Grandpa and I just smile and shake our heads going to the living room to watch a movie about halfway through the movie, I can't seem to keep my eyes open. "Sweetheart, do you want to go to bed?" Grandpa asks me, I nod sleepily, which causes grandpa to laugh. "Come on, I'll take you to bed, but bear in mind, I work at regular human speed." He offers and jokes causing me to give him a smile.

However, just as he is about to pick me up. My cell phone rings and I immediately cringe knowing exactly who it is, that's calling me. James Anderson, seriously, what is it with the universe and me sleeping. I sigh and hold up my finger telling my grandpa to wait as I reluctantly answer the phone. I already know where this conversation is going blah, blah, blah… International security blah, blah, blah… Urgent… Meet me at the airport in 20 minutes or less… International flight… Private Jet… Don't tell anyone what we are doing there, you know, the usual stuff. "Hello, James, where are we going? And we are leaving immediately right. I thought so, see you soon!"

I hang up the phone. "Okay, so I'm going to take a rain check on that whole sleeping thing because my contact is called and we need to leave for England like right now." Sure, it would have been nice to sleep, but that's okay, I can sleep when I'm dead. Oh that's right, I can't. Oh well. Grandpa looks incredibly confused, but nods. "I need you to get my go bag and drive me to the airport." He returns with my bag and loads me in the car.

"You may want to call your father and tell him that you're going out of the country." Grandpa says once we are officially on the road.

I give him a look. "But he only said that I had to tell one of you. Plus, he's at work." I protest, not wanting to get his reaction.

"Mallory, trust me, you should call him." I sigh, I know deep down, he's probably right.

I pick up the phone to my surprise he answers, as soon as I dial the number "Mallory, what's wrong? I'm on my way home right now, but what is wrong?" He questions me literally talking at 1,000,000 mph.

You see, this is exactly what I was afraid of. "Dad, calm down." His panic seems to lessen when he hears me the even tone in my voice. "But I am in the car on the way to the airport to go to England for an unspecified amount of time."

"What!" Dad's voice is escalating into disbelief. At this moment we have pulled up to the airport and I see James is waiting for me.

"Look dad, I have to go, I'll call you later, as soon as I get off the plane. I love you bye." I say quickly hanging up the phone before he can protest. Grandpa gets me out of the car and helps me with my bag.

As soon as I am successfully out of the car. James walks over to me and takes my bag from Joe "excuse me, who are you?" The arrival of the James has clearly puzzled my grandpa. It has also caused him to go into protection mode as he puts one arm around my back.

James smiles and laughs. "There's no need to be alarmed Detective West, my name is Special Agent James Anderson of MI6, and I'm your granddaughter's contact we will be going on this mission together."

My grandpa eyes him warily with an air of distrust playing on his face and he tightens his grip on my shoulder. "Aren't you a little young to be a secret agent?"

At this comment James' smile broadens "I could say the same thing about your granddaughter, but Detective West. I can assure you I am legit" jams promises my grandfather, but my grandfather still has that suspicious look on his face. "Here," James says as he hands my grandfather, his badge from MI6. My grandfather examines it seems to come to the conclusion that it's real causing him to hand it back to James and release hold on me. "Now if you will forgive us, we have to get going." James says, I give my grandfather a kiss on the cheek and he gets in the car and waves goodbye. James puts his arm around me as the go to the boarding platform for his private jet and I can hear my grandfather going "hmm."

We board the plane in a matter of seconds. Once inside, I find my seat and start yawing. "Love, are you really that tired?" Well, I haven't slept in almost 36 hours. So yes, I am exhausted. "You are, aren't you?" He asks a very rhetorical question, he gets up from his seat across from me and returned a few seconds later with a blanket. He gently wraps it around me, "go to sleep, darling, we've got a long flight, so you should be able to get a good amount of sleep," he kisses me on the head, and sits back down in the seat beside. I almost instantly close my eyes, and go to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5:Elmentry my dear Anderson

Chapter 5: It's Elementary, My Dear Anderson, No One Ever Said It Was Easy!

Mallory's point of view

I was enjoying a well-deserved adventure in sleepy town, one that was not plagued by Men in Yellow Suits, frenzied power-hungry generals, ticking time bombs or resurrected parents. The dream I was having was harmless and I'm beginning to like the idea of harmless. It was the dream of me and my horse, Annie just riding in an open field on a perfect sunlight day in the small town of Oxen Glint where I grew up. Wait a minute, is that sirens I hear, yeah, it is oh great, I reluctantly open my eyes. "Hello, darling things have not gone according to plan." James tells me and I laugh as I think _when has anything ever gone as planned?_ "How do you feel about an emergency evacuation?" James asks, slightly panicked. Okay, not the first thing you want to hear when you wake up from being asleep on a private plane that has just entered London airspace and is hovering directly over the Thames River.

"Does it really matter?" I ask him as I get out of my place to get my bag. Call me crazy, but anything with emergency in the title sounds like something you don't really get a choice in.

James just shakes his head and chuckles, "I guess not, here you go, darling," and with that he tosses me something I easily catch the item, but mentally groan when I see what it is. It is a parachute; a parachute means one thing we are about to jump out of this plane. It's not the parachute that I have a problem with I like the parachute. It helps make sure I don't die when I'm falling out of an airplane at 120 mph at 15,000 feet in the air! It's the whole jumping out of an airplane at 15,000 feet and going at 120 mph thing that I'm not okay with, not to mention that when I look out the window I see that the sun is just now starting to rise over the London bridge. "Darling, we really need to get going. The plane is badly damaged and it can't land. Do you remember your parachute training" James asks quickly and instantly I know this is not good?

I nod curtly as I adjust my parachute at this moment I am glad my wheelchair was built to be completely waterproof and submersible being the technology guru my dad was she had outfitted it with every single thing you could imagine, completely collapsible completely waterproof he made it his personal mission to make sure this wheelchair could help me and enhanced me to do anything. I am also glad that my parachuting instructor had such a unique acronym for the process. I mean, who can forget S. P. L. A. T. And yes, I do realize that that spells splat. That's kind of the point to be so shocking that you can't help but remember it. You remember the splat so you don't go splat. The acronym stands for squat, pray, leap, ahhhh, touchdown!

I select diving mode on the chair and grab my backpack and put it in the convenient little compartment that opens up for my stuff when it is in anything but traditional mode. I adjust my goggles; I see that James is waiting for me. "You could've just gone ahead without me you know. I would've caught up" he gives me a look that communicates _not a chance_! I roll my eyes and then decide to do my best 11th Doctor impression. "Geronimo" I scream at the top of my lungs before jumping out of the airplane and praying to God on my way down that the parachute is not defective or faulty. I mean, I know that I'm not going to die that there's no way I can die, but I still don't think that hitting the water at 120 mph would do anything good for my body.

Between my praying that the parachute works and screaming my head off. I get the chance to look at James. There he is freefalling at 120 mph and smiling like an idiot. He is my idiot and I love him, don't get me wrong, but I will never understand how he loves this stuff. Yes, I know how hypocritical that is coming from a girl who always seems to get into some sort of high-stakes interesting endeavor with some sort of international government agency and can't leave well enough alone who actively pursued a career where she is most likely to get shot, stabbed, tortured and mutilated and all kinds of ways. I am aware that is a choice that I have made of my own free will. I am also aware that the fact that I think my career is safer than jumping out of a plane directly into a river will not make sense to most of all normal population. I am okay with that.

I open my parachute and hit the water. Truthfully, I am struggling to come up with an accurate description of what that feels like for you all. So this is what I'm going to do, have you ever seen videos or pictures of an atomic bomb going off? It feels how that looks, I went down feet first, having to swim my way up to the surface. I quickly take off my parachute and just try to relax and float I am staring directly at London Bridge in the sunrise. It is breathtakingly beautiful, after I pull my eyes away, I quickly realize that James is not anywhere that I can see. I float around for several minutes until I see a parachute exactly the same as mine in the water. A pretty far ways away from me. I immediately head over to where it is, as I get closer towards the parachute, I am met with a frightening sight. James is lying face down in the water with one of the parachute cords wrapped around his neck. This causes me to swim towards him faster than I have ever swam before in my life. Once I reach him. I frantically try to disentangle the cord from around his neck. How long had he been like this? It takes me three tries to get the cord from around his neck, he is completely limp in my arms, totally unconscious. I quickly work on reaching dry land, but that is itself a difficult task, considering I have to hold him in one arm and drive my wheelchair out of the water with the other, but I do my best and considering that he is quite a bit deal heavier than I am by about 60 pounds or so I think I am doing an excellent job.

After about 20 minutes I manage to get to a place where I can get out of the river. It is an alley or backstreet that looks relatively clean and is deserted at this time of the day, I pull myself and James up and into the alley without much thought. I just need to make sure that he's okay. He is still unconscious. I check his vitals. I realize he isn't breathing and immediately I start doing CPR, I feel my own upper body ache with protest from my fight with the Russians that took place one day ago as well as the stab wound from my imaginary friend. James's body does not respond, despite numerous protests from my body. I keep going, determined that he will not die. I need him to survive! By the third or fourth round of CPR I am about to cry his body doesn't seem to respond, and my body is done. And then, all of the sudden I feel his heart beating under my fingers and I see him breathing.

He opens his eyes and coughs up a lung full of water. "What are we doing here?" He asks once he regains his voice and air to talk. I stare in other complete silence and shock, tears literally threatening to fall out of my eyes. "Darling?" He asks concerned looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes that I love so much.

I don't say anything. I don't think I can. I just bring my lips to his and kiss him for the longest I have ever kissed anyone in my life. "I love you," I whisper into his ear after I break the kiss.

James looks shocked, but very happy. "I love you too," he says, before leaning in and kissing me again. I try not to, but I can't help but shiver. Maybe it's the cool early morning air or my sopping wet clothes or the constant playing with my emotions that life has seen to be doing, or maybe it's the trifecta of all three. "Love, you okay?" He asks me clearly concerned at the fact that I am now crying.

"Yes," I quickly wipe the tears away from my eyes. Although at this point, it is hard to tell what are the tears and what is river water. I smile weakly back to him. I'm sure I look like a mess, my hair had come loose from the bun that it was in earlier in the day, and was now hanging on my head like a limp noodle completely and utterly drenched dripping down the back of my neck and the front of my clothes which are also entirely saturated, not to mention my makeup, which I'm guessing from the mascara lines that I can feel running down both of my cheeks looks like I let a classroom full of preschoolers use watercolors to finger paint my face.

James looks like he wants to discuss it further, but quickly decides against it. He picks up my bag out of the compartment as I transition the wheelchair to manual mode, the first time I did this I was six years old and was very freaked out that I was in possession of a Transformers like wheelchair that has over 60 different modes with hundreds of options for customization. I don't like to admit it, but I am still in awe that my dad could design something so amazing. As we walk out of the alley, James turns to me and says, "ah, we are in central London. That should make it very easy to get a taxi because we need to get you out of those clothes." He says matter-of-factly. I give him a sideways look. "Come now darling, I didn't mean it, and any lewd or promiscuous context, I simply don't want you to get sick." He pretends to be offended that I would even think that he would think such a thing. "Because that just means more work for me." He adds playfully causing me to hit him in the arm lightly.

Seconds later, we hail a taxi. James puts my wheelchair and bag into the truck of the taxi and then puts me in and gets in himself a few seconds later, immediately after we get in the driver gives us a judgmental glance. I can't say that I blame him because we look like a cross between a stray dog left out in the rain and an out-of-control clown. "Take us to Anderson Manor, please" the driver looks at him skeptically and so do I James sighs and produces his ID and hands it to the driver whose eyes widened in shock as he mumbles an apology to James and quickly hands him back his ID.

I look at him intrigued. "You have a Manor?!" I can feel my own eyes enlarge with bewilderment.

James laughs at the expression on my face clearly content at having surprised me. "Yes, I do my brother and I received it as part of an inheritance from my gran, as well as the rest of the assets and the company." A Fortune 500 company and a Manor. I think quietly to myself, his smile widens and he laughs again. "I thought for sure, you would've figured it out." He remarks, and truthfully, so did I, I thought I knew everything about him. However, he is clearly pleased with himself. I playfully push him and tell him to shut up. I feel like I'm floating, and am slightly nauseous.

I don't however think much of it as I am prone to getting horrifyingly motion sick. It is for this particular reason that I am suddenly regretting riding in an airplane taking a 15,000 foot jump out and "falling with style" from said airplane getting in a cab driven by a man that seems to have never heard of a stoplight or speed limit. Seriously, it's like we're shooting a scene for one of The Fast and Furious movies. Seriously, we are weaving in and out of cars and swerving like we're on the ice. It's getting to the point that I am terrified that we will hit someone.

I have to close my eyes because the feeling of wanting to vomit is getting exponentially worse. I feel James put his arm around my back, and readjust his posture so I can lay against him if I need to he seems to think that I am falling back asleep, which is extremely unlikely considering I'm in a speeding bullet of death that I will let him think that because I don't want him to fuss over me any more than he already does. The car makes a very sharp and tight right turn and then slam on the brakes with such momentous force that James and I lurch forward and hit the two seats in front of us which causes me to open my eyes. The cab driver gets out, gets my bag and wheelchair. James looks at me with a slight smile. "We're here."

The house is stunning, but calling it, a house is like calling the Mona Lisa a painting you are technically correct, but it is much more than that, it looks like a combination of the Biltmore and Kensington Palace. I want to tell him how amazing it is, but I am feeling so nauseated that I am afraid to open my mouth. James starts laughing at my lack of response and puts me in my chair. As soon as he gets me in my chair. I feel a rush of bile make its way up my esophagus. "James move, I'm going to puke on you if you don't!"

James quickly sidesteps out-of-the-way. "What?!" I start to vomit. "Oh, darling," he says, holding my hair out of my face and rubbing my back. I eventually am able to stop.

I look at him slightly embarrassed. "Sorry about that." I say as I sit back in my wheelchair.

"Don't worry about it," he says quietly, kissing me on the head. "It doesn't matter as long as you are okay." He says sweetly, "you are okay, right?" He questions me as we enter his house.

"I think so, I say quickly as I'm fairly sure that my illness is due to the incredibly stressful 80s action thriller style events that my life has taken on during the past couple of days. I'm seriously considering calling up Bruce Willis and asking him if I can cameo in the latest " _Die Hard_ " movie. I think I would be good in those with my experience.

His house is simply amazing on the inside. I'm talking millions of dollars in priceless art and artifacts hanging on the wall and starting to feel like I am in the museum, rather than a home. I stop to admire one of the paintings hanging in the hallway. It is a simply stunning portrait of a woman who looks remarkably like me, "do you like it?" James voice pulls me from my thoughts and causes me to jump when I realize he is standing right beside me. He laughs at my reaction and then repeats the question.

"Yes," I move closer to the painting, so I can examine it, in particular the face. I'm shocked at how much the woman in the painting resembles me every part of her structure matches my own, except she could not be me because this painting has to be at least 150 years old, if not more that yet, as I look at it. I can't help but be convinced that is me in that painting. "She looks like me." I remarked as casually as I can manage, on the off chance that James knows someone who can make a painting look nearly 150 years old.

"I noticed that too." James says nonchalantly before looking at me and adding something I did not expect to hear "it's the reason I was drawn to it in the first place." He smiles at me. "I acquired it, in a black market art auction."

I give him a slightly disapproving look. "A black market art auction?" He nods. I roll my eyes & sigh. "You have got to get a hobby!"

"It's a missing Degas painted in 1864" His selective hearing kicking in the again, did he not hear a word I just said he is going on about some other details of the painting and I am about to the amount when they hear "it's titled the Maiden of the Mind" those five words immediately get my undivided attention. The panic on my face was clearly visible. There was no fighting it. This causes him to give me a confused look. James steps closer and I step back. "Mallory, what's wrong?" He asked, clearly perplexed by my reaction, he searches for a way to get closer to me. I back up again until I am up against a cherry wood table at the other side of the room. He comes closer to me, very slowly, trying very hard not to get me anymore, upset. He carefully places his hand on my cheek, "are you okay, Mallory?"

At this, I don't know how to respond. I don't want to worry him. But at the same time I want to be honest. "I don't know, I don't know." I quietly admitted to James, who looks extremely worried.

"Do you feel sick? Do you need a doctor?" I am unsure how to respond, simply because I don't know what is going on. I don't know how to explain to him that I may be, more like 99.9% sure that I am the girl in a 152-year-old masterpiece of a painting that is hanging in his living room without sounding like I am having some sort of nervous breakdown am I having a nervous breakdown? I think I may be having a nervous breakdown. I don't know what is going on. None of it makes sense. Nothing makes sense anymore, so I guess I will have to accept it. You can

"No. James I'm fine, I promise. I just need a few minutes to calm down a lot has been going on in the past couple of days." I put strength in my voice, hoping he will buy this explanation, for my unusual behavior.

The look on his face softens his eyes looking at me with sympathy and understanding. "Oh, Mallory, I didn't think about that. I am so sorry." I am about to say that is not his fault. When his hand moves from being on my cheek to around my waist and I know he isn't done it. "You know you can tell me anything right?" He asks, in a quiet murmur, looking into my eyes. "I'm being completely serious." My lips formed a hint of a smile and I nod. He then plants his lips on mine for an incredible and ever so slightly surprising kiss.

I break the kiss and go to the en suite bathroom to take a shower thinking that will ease my pain in my back and calm my nerves. James follows me into my bedroom. I give him a perplexed look and say, "why are you here?"

"You threw up a few seconds again and you still are looking a bit pale." I roll my eyes. "I just want to be here in case you end up passing out or something."

His intent is good, but I don't think I'll need it. "I'll be fine." I say reassuringly. However, he sits on the bed. This makes it fairly obvious that he is not going to move, no matter what I say. I sigh walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Once I am in the shower and it has been turned on. I start to relax, believing that I am correct in my assumption that I am fine and what happened a few minutes ago was just a fluke.

A few minutes later, however, everything changes. I feel a sharp pain in my head that makes my vision start to go in and out of focus and me to almost topple over and hit the shower wall. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I have felt this pain before and I know what is happening. I also am aware that I only have about 10 minutes before I completely lose control of myself and my body. I know I have to get myself on the floor of the shower at the very least, otherwise. I am probably going to hit my head. My vision still constantly going in and out of blackness. I put my hands on the shower walls and slide down, so that I am sitting on the floor. I bring my knees to my chest and my head to my knees. "James" I call as I resigned myself to how desperately I need help from him.

James comes in the room. "Mallory did you call for me?" His voice rings out as he hesitantly looks around the room. Then he sees me in my current state and immediately comes to me.

"Help me," I say quietly as the flashes of an incoherent future flood in my brain. James immediately gets a robe off the hook in the bathroom and puts it on my body turns off the water and picks me up and carries me to the bed. Laying me down under the covers before the vision has fully taken over this time however it is very different .

I'm seeing multiple events, they are changing every few seconds, making it incredibly hard to focus on anything, let alone get any detail. They happen in rapid succession, and seem to have no order or pattern that I can place. Once thing however is achingly apparent there's blood tons of blood in my future (and really hot guys in leather) I see Eddie lying down on a concrete floor with a direct gunshot wound to the heart and his gun is lying beside him, what was it self-inflicted?

The next thing I see is a guy who looks kind of like Eddie in the yellow suit, which makes no sense. The guy in the yellow suit is Harrison Wells, who looks nothing like the guy in the yellow suit that I am seeing now! This scene changes quicker and choppier than a Zack Snyder movie. I see my parents, they are alive, but their eyes changed. They are a glowing silver shiny, almost metallic looking. They have blank mindless expressions on their faces and they are coming towards us. Another scene change, but this time it is from a different vantage point like I'm looking directly at from the side there is a woman in an alley propped up against a brick building screaming in pain in the middle of the night. "Barry, Barry!" She heartbreakingly cries out in a mixture of pain and sadness!

Wait, why is she screaming for my father. Please don't tell me this is what I think it is! Just as I say, my silent prayer. The man in the yellow suit speeds onto the scene and I know that the answer to my request is no, not just a no, but a resounding no. He bends down in front of the woman I assumed to be my mother takes off his mask to reveal that he is once again not Harrison Wells, but the guy I had seen moments earlier. He laughs at her screams. "Hello, Miss Lance how very nice to see you again, but we both have to admit, you look much better in black." patronizes her with a smirk, you know, one day I'm really going to enjoy wiping that smug little smirk off his face!

My mother looks slightly afraid "you're him!" She asks breathlessly before screaming in pain again as a contraction rips through her body like a finely sharpened blade.

He smiles and laughs. "If the man you are referring to is a time traveling sociopath who has an unhealthy obsession with a guy in red leather, who happens to be the father of the babies you are currently in labor with, then yes."

He kneels down in front of her. "No, no, no, no!" She cries, "it's too early! She's not due for another 2 months," she says, placing her hand over the top of her small, yet defined baby bump.

His smile widens and he chuckles, "don't worry, she will be fine, in a wheelchair, but fine. I promise. And the other one. Well, he's really none of my concern." He sighs and shakes his head. "I just couldn't wait. That's why I put Pitocin in your drink this morning. You really shouldn't have continued to work in your condition being pregnant with a meta-human, and all." He says, scolding her.

She narrows her eyes. "You're insane!" She says. A clear bite in her voice and then spits in his face.

This only seems to amuse him. He smiles and claps his hands and go "sociopath! Remember, no matter, I can see why Barry likes you." He says cheekily as another round of contractions hit her harder than they had before. "Oh, you're ready now, push!" His smile widens as he gives her an order which she has no choice but to obey.

After several more rounds of pushing I am out and being cradled in the arms of the Man in the Yellow Suit. "Hello beautiful," He coos. "You're perfect, always perfect," he says in the same way he did when I first met him. He then turns to my brother and his face changes to a look of disgust. "And you're ugh!

"You're a monster!" My mother whispers weakly grabbing and the gun and shooting him in the shoulder.

He gives a small groan of pain, before standing up and holding me closer to him. "This always would've happened. I am just completing the circuit." He says in an assured voice before speeding away.

The scene switches yet again, but this time it is not a scene. It is a person one person standing still, not doing, anything as if it is in a picture frame. The weird thing is I don't know who it is. He's handsome, though. And then suddenly I see it. Roy Harper. And then my mind is flooded with the last thing The Man in the Yellow Suit said. "This always would've happened. I am just completing the circuit.

Suddenly I feel my eyes spring open and I attempt to bolt straight up in bed and almost instantly I feel hands on my shoulders pushing me back down into bed. "Not so fast, love." His crisp British accent pulls me instantly into reality.

"James," my voice comes out in a croaking whisper, which is not at all what I was going for. He smiles at me somewhat smugly, if I had the energy and the reaction time I totally would slap him right now, however, because my voice won't cooperate at the moment I am having to settle for an extremely annoyed eye roll combined with my most intimidating death glare.

Unfortunately, my efforts only result in a slight, almost amused chuckle from him. "Come on, love, I know you don't want to, but you have to take it easy." He pleads before absent-mindedly playing with my hair. He catches the smirk on my face. "Mallory, I'm being serious!" He exhales a puff of air in frustration as the smirk on my face deepens. "I think that you are properly ill and it worries me." That cleans the smirk clear off my face. "Promise me that you'll take it easy and not do anything stupid and stay in bed?" He asks me with a hidden order.

"I promise." I croak my agreement. He looks at me skeptically. "I promise." I reaffirm while continuing to croak.

James sighs "Unfortunately, darling, I have a meeting to attend that is really important." I am almost certain that the meeting has something to do with the fact that my parents are miraculously still alive despite being declared dead.

"No fair," I protest, pouting and looking at him with puppy dog eyes. Sadly, however, that only works with dad.

"I'm sorry love, but I can't very well take Kermit the frog to meet my best contacts." He says cheekily. I roll my eyes and grab the extra pillow that is lying beside me and throw it at him. He ducks, but I anticipated that so it hits him anyway. "Oww!" He exclaims gingerly rubbing his cheek. "Watch it. That's my money maker. "

The way he says it is so flamboyant it immediately makes me burst out in laughter, he glares at me playfully. "You asked for it!" I breathe out in between fits of laughter!

He tilts his head to the side and smirks clearly overdoing his reaction on purpose to make me smile. "Maybe I did, but perhaps it's a good thing you're not coming with me." I give him a questioning look wanting him to explain further. "You get angry when you're sick. I mean, if you can do this to my jaw with a pillow. Imagine what you could do with an actual gun," he says jokingly while continuing to rub his jaw and pretending to shiver from the thought.

He walks towards me and points to a red mark on his jaw, indicating that he wants a kiss. I decide to oblige and lean forward and kiss the spot. "I'm sorry babe, I promise I will be more gentle next time." My apology causes a huge smile of self-satisfaction to break out across his face, which makes me roll my eyes.

He kisses the tip of my nose. "It's okay babe, just relax and try to get some sleep. Call the Butler if you need anything. I don't want you getting out of bed." He pauses for a second and looks into my eyes to make sure I understand. I nod to signal that I understand. "I have to go." He says, before pushing himself off the bed and walking towards the door. He pauses, right before he gets to the door and turns around. "Mallory. Call your father. He's worried about you."

I reluctantly grab my cell phone and turn it on. My eyes widen in shock, I have 10 unread texts and 5 missed calls each with a corresponding voicemail. I take a minute to listen to them with each one of them his voice becomes more panicked. I definitely need to call him.

I dial the number, and no surprise, he picks up immediately. "Mallory, you're okay," the relief in his voice is clearly evident. I am then privy to a muffled conversation. "Yes, it's her… Yes, she's okay… I know you told me that…" I smile a little as I hear this. He then goes back to his conversation with me. "Grandpa says hi."

"Tell him I say hi too." I say, without thinking big mistake. My voice cracks, still sounding like Kermit the frog, but only this time there is a new addition of pain into the mix. I of course know that he will both recognize and freak out uncontrollably at my newly discovered illness "Mallory are you okay? You sound different, like, really different. Are you sick?" Yep, he noticed he definitely noticed.

"Kind of" my voice cracks and sends a slight jolt of pain through my throat. "Yes," I amend my earlier answer.

"Oh Mallory, you sound awful!" My dad says, sounding worried, and if I'm being honest I feel awful! No, scratch that I feel worse that awful, I feel like a double-decker bus has slammed me into the concrete barrier.

"Gee, thanks dad. That is amazing. I feel so much better already." My voice can be used in the dictionary example for the word sarcasm. I am so desperately trying to lighten the mood in the room.

This only makes it more amusing when my father starts trying to apologize, "oh honey, you know, I didn't mean it like 'that." He then begins laughing at himself. "Of course you know that you were being sarcastic! I swear one day I will get better at this… Maybe." He says, through laughter again. "In all seriousness," he immediately stopped laughing. "Do you need or want me to come get you and take you home?"

This offer momentarily perplexes me. _Is he really offering to get on a plane and fly halfway around the world to pick me up because I've gotten the flu? "_ No, no, no, you are not getting on a plane and flying all the way to England just because I have the flu. It simply isn't sensible." I protest wholeheartedly because if he doesn't come to England, he won't have to worry about the fact that my other parents have miraculously been resurrected and I won't have to have that awkward overprotective moment when James meets dad. Plus $300 is a lot of money to spend just to stare at my face and worry.

"I wouldn't need to get on a plane!" My dad quickly says, countering my objection and leaving me utterly confused. "I can run on water; I could be there in a few seconds." He finishes effectively leaving all my objections null and void. Oh great, just great, as if he needed any more of a God complex.

"But dad, you have other responsibilities and priorities." I weakly counter back and instantaneously know that this argument has zero chance of succeeding.

"Mallory, you are always going to be number one on my priority list."

I sigh and cough biting my lower lip as I come to the conclusion that dad is not going to let this go, and perhaps it is better to say it now before it comes out later. "Dad, I have to tell you something." My voice is shaking like an earthquake as my nerves begin to creep in at exactly what I am about to tell him. Okay, deep breath. One… Two… Three. "It's about the mission, it's not about what you think it is at least not entirely." Secretly trying to prolong the inevitable a little bit longer. My raising anxiety adds to my father's own, he doesn't say anything and he doesn't have to for me to be able to that he is in ultra-panic attack mode because that is just the kind of guy he is. I take a very shaky breath. "It is about my other parents, they are not exactly dead, they have been to Tahiti or wherever Project Firebird tells them they were when they wake up" although at this point I am seriously considering that this deal involves more mind control than it does actual free will.

The one conclusion, I am certain of is that whoever is doing this is doing this with the express purpose of messing with me. Now I've made many enemies over my long, storied and sometimes slightly exaggerated career, being a spy for the United State\ s government! But I can only think of one person that has the means and the willpower in the deranged attitude to do so: The Man in the Yellow Suit! His plan is practically perfect, if you think about it. His plan is so complex and intellectual beautiful that if I wasn't as mentally stable and appalled on account of it being my parents and my life that he was messing with. I might be very impressed and maybe even admire it a little. The fact that I thought about praising the actions of a known sociopath made a cold chill run down my spine and made me slightly nauseated, although that may be, on account of my elevated temperature. However, for the sake of my humanity. Let's say it was my disgust with the actions of the aforementioned sociopath.

As expected my dad's reaction to the news is less than ideal, it is an extremely panicked response, not that I can blame him. "So you are telling me that your parents are alive!" He practically shouts in a mix of excitement and confusion. His sudden escalation in volume makes me wince as a throbbing pain in my head abruptly becomes apparent. "How do you know this? Did you see them?"

Oh boy. He is definitely not going to like this part. I don't even like this part, and I'm the one that did it! "About two days ago around 2 o'clock in the morning I got a text message from an unknown number with surveillance video footage, dated six hours after their death that said Operation Firebird successful proceed to phase two. My colleague and my dad's assistant received the exact same message at which point he contacted me asking me to meet him at the diner to discuss the possibility of my parents being alive. He and I made a plan that we were going to investigate the possibility of my parents being alive off the books because we both decided that resurrection technology in the hands of any government would be disastrous! The mercenaries showed up and you know the rest of the story from there."

I come clean, more or less. I then wait for the lecture that I know for a fact that I will be receiving. "Mallory, do you know how dangerous that is? Are you trying to get yourself killed! It could've been a trap to kidnap you or worse! Not to mention the fact that you were hurt and you have no idea who you are dealing with!"

He's right! He's right! It was dangerous, stupid and reckless. He's right about all of that. I came out of retirement, albeit unexpectedly, but I came out of retirement for this dangerous, stupid and reckless mess of a mission that carries a very high, present and ominous likelihood that James and effectively anyone who helps us out may die. The fact that I myself am not included in that risk does not lessen the reality or the weight of it, in fact, it does the opposite. My and James initiation of this mission/investigation into this resurrection technology has a very high probability of getting someone killed. I am responsible for that!

So why, why did I do it? Why did I engage in a mission with such high risks for myself and other people? Simple, they were my parents and this type of technology is dangerous and has the power to change everything: politically, economically, scientifically and socially! It is too dangerous for anyone, individual or government to have the ability to control! It has to be destroyed and the easiest way to destroy it would be, of course, before the government knows it exists because once they know it exists they won't stop searching for it. A realization struck it doesn't matter about my parents because no one can know they're alive, which means I'll have to put them somewhere safe and pretend like it didn't happen. "You're right, dad, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking straight."

My dad's voice softens, immediately upon hearing mine in broken defeat. "It's okay sweetheart, I love you!" He says softly, before adding, "just get some sleep, relax and don't do anything stupid or dangerous if you can avoid it. Don't forget to call me if you need me. Good night, Mallory."

Good night?! What is he talking about it is 11 AM 00 wait I completely forgot the time difference between London and Central City is 6 ½ hours with London being ahead of Central City. I decide to roll with it, because explaining is something that I simply don't have the energy to explain. "I love you too dad. Good night." I then end the call and stare up at the ceiling bored out of my mind and silently lamenting the fact that I am in the country that is known for some of the best intelligent community figures, even if they are fictional, not to mention the royal family or my favorite guilty pleasure of Dr. Who and I can't do any investigating because I am in bed with the flu.

Wait a second, maybe I can. I mean, James isn't here, and I only have to be in bed when he gets home! True, I would have to be insanely quiet about it to make sure that none of his house staff could hear me, but luckily for me. My chair has a built in stealth mode. Am I going to do it?! Heck yes, come on, what percent of you actually expected me to stay in bed! 10% of you?! Good job on you. You all are learning!

I pull up Gideon who smiles at me. "Gideon, I need you to hack into James's computer!" I know what you're thinking, Mallory are you crazy? James is your boyfriend! My answer to that is yes, James Anderson is my boyfriend that James Anderson is also an agent working for a foreign government that had him to spy on me 3 ½ years ago to determine if I was a threat! So a certain degree of trust but verify is in order and I kind of hate to admit it, but I'm getting one of my famous gut feelings that he knows a lot more about everything than he is letting on. I mean the diner thing that was totally convenient and now he just happens to know a guy that may know something about my parent's miraculous resurrection just two days after discovering that it happened? Don't get me wrong, I like convenient. I like it when everything gets wrapped up with a neat little bow and I don't have to work for any of it, but it seems a little too perfect, just a little too much perfection to make it seem realistic. I know what some of you are saying you are just being paranoid. you may be right. In fact, I hope you are, but I don't think so.

"Miss Allen" Gideon's computerized voice rings out in very well modeled concern. "Are you sure it's a good idea to do that?" The apprehension in her voice is clear which only adds to my uneasy belief that I am correct in my suspicion. I take a deep breath in and out before closing my eyes and contemplating what exactly it is that I am about to do. I have to know if something is not right. If I have a right to be afraid, if I, if I am in danger. If James is working with him or them. I have to know to keep myself safe. She nods slowly understanding what I am asking her to do. "Miss Allen, what exactly do you want me to search for?"

Well, if I am going to do this, I might as well do it right. "Gideon, search for anything pertaining to me, my family, my identity, time travel, or Operation Firebird that was created as far back as five years ago and updated recently, meaning within the last six months." I say. She nods. "I then want you to search all government databases known to the public and unknown to the public for information pertaining to the Anderson family birth certificates, marriage certificates death certificates any government paperwork that proves they exist, and photos of them. Send everything you find to my phone and make sure you use an invisible hack."

I give her one last set of instructions she smiles and nods. "I always do." She says, confidently, before going to do her work. I lay back in the bed nervously tapping my fingernails on the side of the wooden bed frame biting my lower lip and staring at my phone anxiously wanting Gideon to reappear. God, please let me be wrong! I silently pray, this is one of the few times in my life I actually want to be wrong. The longer it takes, the more dread I feel entering into my heart. There are only two reasons why it would be taking Gideon this long: number one, she can't hack through the encryption software on James's computer which is a very high statistical improbability being that she is the AI from the future, which probably makes our security obsolete. Option number two, she's found a lot of files on James's computer that suggest that I am right and she's sifting through it all to find the most relevant pieces of information and send me which sadly is the most realistic of the two options.

Gideon returns a few minutes after I have made peace with option number two. "Um, Miss Allen are you okay?" She asks sympathetically staring up at my face. Suddenly a blue light appears out of my phone. "Your health readings show a temperature of 103.2°F, as well as in excess of mucus in your nasal cavity and fluid in your lungs. These readings are consistent with pneumonia." Ha, well, what do you know Gideon is a doctor. Pneumonia. I have pneumonia. I thought for sure it was the flu. Oh well, that's impressive anyway. "Thanks to your accelerated healing you do not need antibiotics and by my calculations at your rate of healing will be at full health in 3 days two hours and 40 minutes. Thank you accelerated healing. "Until then, you need to rest and not do anything to physically strenuous. Yeah, yeah, let's see how that goes, with me being part of an off the books investigation into resurrection technology somehow I don't think that is going to happen.

"Gideon, what did you find?" I ask her quietly, I watch as her face droops a little and she looks down. "Gideon, what did you find?" I prod her again.

This time I am met with a pair of sad confused eyes. "Remember how I told you you have to stay in bed and rest and not to do anything physically strenuous?" I nod, okay, whatever she found obviously is bad. "Up until three years ago, there is no mention of Agent James Anderson, nor is there any mention of his family." So who is James really? Friend or foe? One thing I know for sure, I am in a house with an imposter of a man that I loved and I have no one to help me! I am screwed, I am so screwed!

"Other files indicate that he was following you and your family." She says as surveillance type photos appear on my screen and Gideon scrolls through them for me at an agonizingly slow pace. My eyes widen in horror as I began to realize some of these photos were taken it months ago or more. I feel myself starting to shake than Gideon pulls up one more file and this one practically makes my heart stop. It is an intricately drawn family tree that includes everyone, including Barry. He knows everything.

I stare at that family tree for a long time as the slow heavy deep revelation of what this, means settles into my brain. "Mallory, love. I'm home sorry that meeting took so long." I hear the voice of James's imposter call as the door closes behind him. He's home! I quite literally drop the phone like I'm playing the hot potato game, and pretend to be asleep. The door to my room unlocks and he sits down on the bed beside me. "Hey, love, wake up" he says, shaking me slightly. I open my eyes slowly, he smiles. "There we go. You're awake."

I blink and give a strangled sounding cough. "Unfortunately," I say as soon as I stop coughing, he puts a hand on my back. "How was your meeting?" I ask attempting not to think about what I had just learned because I don't want him to know that I'm on to him just yet.

"You know, the usual a bunch of stuck up in stuffy suits actually it was rather boring. I much rather would've been here taking care of you!" He says with a hint of a smile and grabs my hand. Crap, he sounds so much like James, it is unreal and unfair he is too good. It is just not fair. It is not fair, but however true that may I can't let on. So I maintain a ghost of a smile on my lips. "Speaking of which, it sounds like you still feel like crap. So how about I be the world's best boyfriend and fix you some of my world-famous soup, and make an exception to the unsweetened tea rule. And then we could watch some really sappy romance movies. Does that sound good?" I nod, and he smiles back. "Excellent, I will be right back." An hour and a half later he comes back in my room with a bowl of soup and a glass of tea. "Now I'm going to make sure you get enough to eat and plenty of liquids," he then sets the bowl on the tray in front of him. He helps me sit up in the bed. "Now I know you can normally feed yourself. However, I'm going to do it until you get better, simply because I don't want soup and tea getting on the sheets okay."

I nod, somewhat reluctantly, I still cannot get over how many of his mannerisms are like James. If I hadn't have hacked his computer. I probably never would've figured it out. He sits in a chair beside the bed. "Here comes the airplane." He tells me before cracking up at his own joke. I shoot him a look of pure annoyance. "Sorry darling, I couldn't resist." He then snickers. "Okay, okay, I'll stop"

After eating my soup and drinking at least a gallon of sweet tea. He gets up from the chair walks around to the other side of the bed. "Okay, sappy romantic movie marathon and cuddle time as promised!" I watch his movements carefully to make sure that this is not a trap. He holds up two DVD cases. "Which one first Titanic or The Notebook?" He asks me. I shrug. He pops in The Notebook and presses play. He then gets in the bed. He wraps his arm around my shoulder. That makes me feel uncomfortable and I start to attempt to move out of his embrace, hoping he will notice I move my arm, maybe half a centimeter to the right and he looks up concerned. "Mallory are you okay?"

He noticed, "yeah, I'm fine, just a little bit sore." I say quickly, offering the first excuse that came to my mind. He looks at me sideways for a second and then gently helps me sit up a little more. He sits up a little, he then puts his hands on my shoulders. "Let's see if I can help with that." He gives me a massage. "Is that better?"

I nod slightly, before deciding that I can't take it anymore. I stop the movie right in the middle of the famous speech. "James, can you come here?" I hear the movement of covers out of the way. Seconds later he is in front of me looking at me anxiously. "Who are you?!" My voice is flat; he stares at me uncomprehendingly muttering something about my fever not making me make sense. That causes me to lose it. "Who are you?! I know James Anderson isn't real so shut up and tell me who you are, because I don't know if you noticed, but I am in a foreign country and in the past 72 hours, my parents have been murdered, I found out my biological dad is a superhero, I then watched a man who didn't murder them go to jail for it, I've been shot at, stabbed, beat, chased and threatened and parachuted out of a plane. So at this point I am at the end of my rope and I'm done with all the bull crap! So do the smart thing and answer the question because unlike you, I am an actual spy and you do not want to see what they taught me in Quantico, you really don't. So, answer the question!" I say glaring at him to make sure he gets the point.

He looks shocked, taken aback and a little frightened. "Oh, you are exactly like the stories, tough and very sure of yourself, intelligent, and a master of deception." He gives me a slight smile and laugh. "All of which is incredibly sexy by the way!" He gives me an incredibly cheeky smile. "You are right about everything except one thing… I am a secret agent"

"Who do work for?" I demand forcefully determined to keep the questions on rapid-fire, until I get the whole truth.

He takes in a shaky breath muttering something about how they are going to kill him at the office for telling me. "Look, Mallory my name is Thomas Robert Queen and I work for the American Bureau of Time Travel Regulations. Which is ironically an agency you founded." He then produces a badge and hands it over to me. I open it and sure enough, everything he says is inside of it, including one signature that makes his story instantly legit mine. Mallory Nora Allen. Founder of the American Bureau of Time Travel Regulations.

I examine the badge one more time before handing it back to him. "Why are you trying to kill me, and why would you work with Eobard Thawne?!" I ask, still not fully sure that I believe him, I mean in my defense, he has tricked me twice.

He looks like he has been punched in the gut. "Kill you?! Kill you?! I would never be trying to kill you one because I love you and two, because it is my job to do the complete opposite of that!" He says firmly, before taking a shaky breath because at this moment, even I am starting to realize that he is filled with emotion. "Mallory, you are one of the most important people in history or you're what we at the agency refer to as a linchpin, you are a person that is so integral to this version of the timeline that if anything was to happen to you time would go kaboom. To prevent the great time collapse of 2021, not a fun time, but you'll see when we get there, a program was instated called the clothesline program which is the program in which agents are sent to the past to protect the linchpin and prevent any sort of meddling that could, you know, implode time. Several years after the program was initiated Eobard Thawne decided to interfere with your father's timeline due to the extensiveness of his interference, The President the United States decided that you were in serious possible danger and therefore needed to become part of the clothesline program. I had just gotten out of the time travel training at Quantico and passed my entrance exam, when I met with the President and was assigned to you." He finished looking at me with pleading eyes. "I'm telling the truth, I love you, please, please believe me."

He looks at me, I look at him. "I believe you, and I love you too, I just wish you could've told me sooner, but I understand why you couldn't." I say, after a while he visibly relaxes and looks extremely relieved. "I do have one question," I say quietly, looking down at my hands. He nods and brings my chin up, so that I am looking at him. "Do you stay here forever or do you go back?"

He kisses me. "I stay here for the rest of my life. Sorry to disappoint you." He smiles cheekily. I smile back and he laughs, "now come on, we have to go to bed." he says, grabbing my legs and helping me lie back down, "we have to kidnap your brother in the morning!" I give him a confused look. "Your twin brother works for the Regenex Corporation as a coder" I give him another confused look. "The Regenex Corporation is the company that is in possession of the technology that resurrected your parents, your twin brother works there, so we are going to kidnap him." He gets in the other side of the bed and wraps his arms around my waist.

Oh, okay, we're going to kidnap my twin brother. Wait, what "good night, James/Thomas."

"Good night, Mallory" he says, before I fall fast asleep. I'm in a room. It's that same room from last time, the vault. "Hello, Mallory, I'm sorry that you're sick." It's Dr. Harrison Wells, but he's standing up that makes no sense. He's supposed to be paralyzed! "This however is one time I am grateful that you got Mister Thomas Queen with you. I just wanted to let you know, I'm always here! Do me a favor, though, and wake up." I shoot up straight in bed wide-awake and then a gust of wind and he's here. The Man in the Yellow Suit is here standing in front of me. "Oh, my beautiful enigma, I told you I would always be here." Then he is gone again.


	6. Chapter 6: It's all in the family

Chapter 6: It's All in the Family Well, Kind of!

I sit there in bed completely and utterly petrified. The Man in the Yellow Suit was here in my bedroom and he had called me _his. He had called me his. He had taken ownership of me. He had called me "his Beautiful Enigma!" What does that even mean? It's creepy. It's just plain creepy and downright disgusting!_ My mind is in a frenzied state of panic. I am wide awake, my brain has turned on to survival/deduction find the bad guy mode. I am shaking like I have got a 2000 V electric current running through my body. I quickly search the other side of the bed for my boyfriend James/Thomas/whoever you want to call him. You know what, for all intents and purposes, let's just call him, James, so I don't have to keep putting slashes every time he appears in the story which I bet most of you have guessed is going to be a lot. Anyway, I feel his side of the bed and find that yes, he is still there and I mutter a quick sigh of relief that he is still here. I do not know. However, if I am relieved by the fact that he slept through the whole entire ordeal, or if I am concerned that the person that is supposed to be protecting me from the deranged psychopathic obsessed stalker that is The Man in the Yellow Suit didn't even notice when he walked in the room.

I grab my cell phone and dial the number I need right now _. Dad_. I don't even care that it is 4 o'clock in the morning their time I need my dad. I listen to the phone ring twice and for a second, I start to wonder if maybe he is not awake or can't hear the phone ringing or whatever. That period of worrying doubt doesn't last long though, because as soon as I start even entertaining the idea. He picks up "Mallory, why are you calling at 4 o'clock in the morning?"

"Dad, I'm sorry, but he came here and I didn't know what to do." I say, trying to explain, but my panic is making me talk fast.

"Honey, calm down. Okay. And then we'll go through this again. Breathe in, breathe out." Dad instructs me clearly concerned about my possibility of hyperventilating in my panicked state. He leads me through these guided breathing exercises several times until my breathing returns to something relatively resembling normal. "Good. Now try telling me what you were going to tell me earlier, but slower."

I take in one more deep breath, just for good measure. "The Man in the Yellow Suit came into my bedroom and he said some really creepy messed up things." I can say more coherently.

I become keenly aware that the silence on the end of the line means one thing, dad is fuming. "He what?!" Yep, he is livid possibly the angriest, I have never heard anyone in my life and that includes my other father, yelling at foreign business corporations after they screwed up his production of his latest technology or stole the blueprints. "Are you hurt? Did he, you know… Do anything to you?" I figure out what he is implying in a millisecond, and the thought of it, makes me shiver.

"No, dad, he didn't do anything to me, except creep me out. He was right there and then he was gone." I say slightly embarrassed at myself for being so freaked out.

There was silence on the end of the line against him like he was contemplating something. After several minutes, he says, "Mallory, I have a meeting today and have to do some work on a very important case. But after I get off work I will come to England and help you guys figure the case out if that would make you feel more comfortable. Do you want to do that?" He volunteers sensing my slight apprehension and fear.

"Yes," I am in a little bit of shock, as well as being embarrassed.

"Okay, text me the address and I will be there as soon as I can."

"Okay, I will see you soon, I love you, dad." I whisper quietly, not wanting to wake James up.

"Why are you whispering?" Dad asks, noticing my sudden decrease in volume.

I quickly make the executive decision that telling my dad that my older boyfriend is in bed with me is not a very wise idea, considering the state of anger, my dad is currently in. So, I come up with the most acceptable and truthful excuse that I can, "I have pneumonia so it kind of hurts to talk." I say slowly letting my voice crack and cough. "Sorry, about that. I feel awful."

"Pneumonia?!" My dad says very loudly. "How in the world did you get pneumonia?" Ode to Joy yet another one of my numerous stories, I'm not looking forward to telling dad because I know he means well, but my goodness, does he have the tiniest predisposition to overreact to almost everything that happens especially when it involves me.

I bite my lip and I cringe as I am sure that my response will cause him to worry about my safety, but what am I going to do? "I think it has something to do with me parachuting out of the plane into the Thames River, because the plane was going to crash." I say, rushing my words at top speed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he won't catch all the words.

Big mistake! Word to the wise: never ever try to speed talk to confuse a person in a conversation, especially when the person possesses super speed. You are never, ever going to win that fight, it's like trying to outbox Mohammed Ali, or out compose Mozart or out write Shakespeare! It is never ever going to work out well, and all you are going to end up being is out of breath and extremely confused yourself. Even with all that work, my dad ended up catching the words I was most trying to hide from him! Those words being of course parachute, river, and plane crash! "Mallory, you jumped out of a plane into a river? No wonder, you got sick. You have to be more careful!"

Now I am sarcastic by nature that is just simply who I am. But when I'm sick or grumpy or tired, my sarcasm meter goes from about a six to a 15. So, I bite my tongue as a bunch of sarcastic comments flood my brain and threaten to come out of my mouth like that uncle who is socially awkward, so he attempts to make conversation by bringing up everybody else's numerous divorces and ex-girlfriends/boyfriends and a bunch of other inappropriate subject matter, but he doesn't know when to stop. So, it just keeps going and going and going until everybody has either left the room or is giving him the death glare. It is because of this, however, that I have learned the art of the holding your tongue, or the shut up and smile method that my dad and my family used when we were surrounded by people that thought they were worth more than they are. "I know dad; I will be more careful next time." I promise this even though I know this is a pie crust promise easily made and easily broken, especially in my profession as a secret agent to a covert agency that next to no one knows exist that happens to be the world best counterterrorism agency in the world. Dad seems to accept my promise and ends the call.

I turn off my phone and lay back down in bed intent on going back to sleep after several minutes those it becomes abundantly clear that I will not be going back to sleep any time soon. Every time I close my eyes, I see him, either killing my parents or beating my dad to a bloody pulp or even worse in my room. It seems wherever I go. I cannot get away from him, maybe that is what he wants. Once I have concluded that sleep will elude me until I can get my mind on to something else. I decide the only way to do that is to get out of this bed and do something. Getting out of the bed is easier said than done. James has his arms wrapped around my midsection tightly holding me close against him. He is not holding me tight enough to hurt me, but he is holding me tight enough that getting myself out of his protective grip is going to be quite difficult. Difficult, but possible, I move at a pace resembling an arthritic snail maybe half a millimeter at a time at most, every now and then casting quick glances at James to make sure he is still asleep, which he is, although I suppose I should have guessed that since he can sleep through a man that moves at the speed of light entering his bedroom. I shake my head as I am finally able to disentangle myself from his grip. The second I shift my weight to get out of the bed. He stirs, I hold my breath for a minute before he falls back asleep.

Once I am out of the bed, I start my hunt for the files for anything else, he doesn't want me to find. I know what you're thinking and yes, I have deep rooted trust issues. It's kind of a job requirement in the intelligence community, it pays to be skeptical of everything in life, I already said, I'm skeptical because it keeps me alive. Now if it wasn't already blatantly obvious to you, James and I have a complicated, and by no means a normal relationship. I mean, even before I found out he is a time traveling secret agent. It is an extremely complicated relationship straight from the beginning when James, who isn't James and I met, he was an intern/personal assistant to my dad. Yes, okay, yes, I can hear you, I was dating my father's personal assistant, and that has already crossed a bunch of boundaries. The relationship was wonderful, until I started having my normal, paranoid deep rooted trust issues and I bugged his phone, feel free to start judging in the comment section now anyway, I found out he was a spy, reportedly for MI six. Ha. I reported it to my superiors and then what preceded can only be properly described as a teenage version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, without the murder.

This place is massive, it has more than 1000 rooms. It is very easy to get lost, and I am very directionally challenged, you know that person that says right and then goes left, that's me. I am somewhat wary about doing this and almost reconsider not because I reconsidered, or that I've decided that this is a bad idea and I should leave it alone (which it is and I should,) but I need something to get my mind off the fact that there is a speed force using psycho that seems to be obsessed with me and my father and anyone around me that has had anything to do with me whatsoever. How will looking at a file on a company that helped resurrect my parents and hired my twin brother to help with that? It won't, but I'm awake so I might as well get up to speed (pun intended).

Anyway, as I make my way through the kitchen wondering how on earth, I am going to find what I spot a stack of files on the coffee table in the living room. I am torn between wanting to kiss him and slap him. These files should be locked in a room that has a five-level encryption lock on the door. Once I walk into the living room, I eventually decide that it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, given that we are now running an off the books investigation into the shell corporation that may or may not be linked to international crime that has the technology to resurrect people, including my adoptive parents. The point being that traditional rules and protocol do not apply here.

As I approach the stack of files, I am overcome with a sense of finality. This is it, I am literally at the point of no return. If I open this, let me rephrase this, once I open there is no going back there is no way to unsee the information. That conclusion, no matter how many times I come to it sends tingles up and down my spine. After playing chicken with myself and prolonging the inevitable. I finally take the top file from the stack attached to it is a Post-it note that reads: for my favorite sneaky and sexy American love, James. I laugh slightly. He is such a cheeky guy. I open the file, goodbye blissful ignorance. Ameritech global is the owner of The Regenex Corporation, but that makes no sense!

Ameritech global is a company that commissions weapons and not just weapons, weapons of mass destruction so why would they be interested in creating a resurrection device? It makes no sense when you're in the business of making weapons. It is extremely unwise and counterintuitive to bring them, a device that can bring them right back to life. That means there's only two options here: one that they've gone completely brain-damaged and forgot what a realistic, comprehensive business strategy looks like or the more likely choice two, they are being paid to front the company by someone else.

I know one person whose name has jumped straight up to the top of the list with his yellow leather and red glowing eyes. Okay, whoa, hold it, I'm starting to sound a bit too much like those conspiracy theorists with their it's all connected ideology. Wait… Is this it? Am I having a mental breakdown? I think I am… No, of course not. It can't be, I am a secret agent trained for a highly selective extremely veiled counterterrorism agency from the age of 10. I was trained to not crack under pressure, stress, or emotional weight, I am unbreakable. Now that I write that down, I realize how completely and utterly depressing that is (I never said the conspiracies were wrong!) So, it makes sense that I cannot be having a mental breakdown, but for the sake of argument, we will check this one off as a maybe and return to it later.

I then return my attention back to the file I have laying in my lap. I pick it up so that it is level with my eyes, quickly deciding that is not the best idea to put the strain of reading files with my head down on my neck. This decision seems to be the right one. As I glance over the top of the file to see that the stack of files on the table holds at least 20 more files. Within a few minutes. I realize that the file that I am reading the last few pages of can shed no more light on the situation, then it already has. Realizing this, I decide to grab the next file in the stack because there are 20 more files to go at least. It gives me no added information on the project or the company except that the CEO Roger Young has an offshore bank account in the Cayman Islands, but come on, I could've guessed that with my eyes closed. That's CEO, 101. The next file is a bit more interesting because it shows the names of all the contributing members and Board members of the company, both honorary and standing. I am shocked speechless at how many of the names on the list that I know: Malcolm Merlyn, Moira and Robert Queen, Alexander Price, Elijah David, Dimitri Volkov and Raymond Reddington. I know all these people, these are all prominent businessmen, international leaders and or criminals. Seriously, the list reads like a list of employees from international criminals, Incorporated. Malcolm Merlyn and the Queens trying to destroy half the town they lived in, Alexander Price is under investigation by the SEC for running a Ponzi scheme that cost over one billion dollars from his clients. Elijah David the highly influential and potentially corrupt leader of Israel's Mossad. Dimitri Volkov an international war criminal, he hails from Russia and is the very reason I don't trust the Russians. Raymond Reddington is the man who I'm sure wrote the book on how to be an international criminal. You can name any shady criminal enterprise you want and I will almost guarantee you that he has a hand in it somewhere. Out of all the people and yes, I have crossed paths with all of them, Raymond is my favorite. What? Don't judge me like that, he has class and sophistication. Did I just complement a criminal? Yeah, I did, man, this job, makes your perception change.

Anyway, as I am looking over this list full of deplorable people that would make any individual with a shred of human decency shake from the amount of pure slime that is hidden in these pages, I see a name on the list down at the very bottom. _His name_ … this completely tops the utter crap pile that this list is for there in his elegantly sprawling script is his signature Harrison Wells! This serves as vindication in my mind that I was right to be suspicious of Dr. Wells, I mean being on a list with some of the most corrupt and dangerous people who are alive, who support a shady company that has in their possession technology that can change the balance of life and death should carry weight right? This brings up a lot of questions that I decide to put in the we will cross that bridge when we get to it pile.

A file that has been successfully buried under the monument to bureaucracy that is this top-secret haystack catches my attention because of its different insignia and lettering on the front. I don't know why, but the one file that is different than all the others seems important, or at the very least interesting. I open the file to discover it is a dossier on my brother who is working for the Regenex Corporation as a programmer. His name is Jonathan Brian Adams wait, where do I knew that name. I then come across his picture… No… No, just no. I know how I know him, his name is not John Adams. His name is Carson Tyler and I arrested him for hacking into The National Defense System. Yep, you heard that right. My brother is a world-renowned hacker and I arrested him and now am about to kidnap him. This is a beautiful way to start a brother or sister relationship. Carson is extremely good at what he does, technically speaking, there I go, complementing a criminal again. On top of being one of the world's best hackers. He is a multi-talented escape artist in the past four years he has been in 10 different prisons and has managed to escape from all of them. Many people wonder, how if he is such a good hacker why does he end up getting caught? The answer to that question is simple and has nothing to do with his work. The reason he gets caught is because he's cocky and arrogant, so he likes to put on an extravagant show for his potential clientele and this almost always ends up in him being arrested, but people still hire him because he is undoubtedly unquestionably the best at what he does. I stare at his picture that smug, self-satisfied grin proudly displayed on his face. I look at the ceiling instantly wishing I could take back all those times I had begged God, my parents, and Santa Claus to let me have a brother.

Wait, something doesn't seem right. This doesn't follow his normal pattern. Nowhere in these files does it say that the Corporation has experienced any kind of hacking in the past six months. He always goes straight back to work and sends the money to his adoptive parents. Carson never takes a job unless there is a payout for him somewhere and there have been no payouts of money anywhere in any of his accounts. This is incredibly frustrating to me _. His parents_! I at once grab my laptop and search for his parents' financial records. The words I see immediately cause my fingers to stop typing. _Financial records sealed for ongoing death investigation._ This is not a job, he is in hiding from _him_. This is made abundantly clear when I happen across a crime scene photo that has the word Enigma written on the wall behind them.

That's it! I can't take any more of this tonight. I close my laptop and make my way back to my bedroom and the second I open the door. He wakes up. "Mallory, what are you doing up?" He says quickly getting up and coming over to me looking at my face concerned.

Trying to quickly lessen his concern. I opt for the humor route. "I've been in bed all day, I needed a break."

The look on his face tells me that he isn't buying it one bit. "You are pale and shaking." He tries to get me to tell him the truth.

"I am sick and cold." I practically yell, which is not a good decision, because it results in massive pain and coughing my head off. His eyes soften and he unbuckles my seatbelt. I shoot him an inquisitive look. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles, in response to my question. "Isn't it obvious love?" He asked quietly as he wraps my arms around his neck and motioning me to lean up. He then places one hand securely around my back and places the other under my legs. He chuckles at my lack of response. "I'm putting you to bed, I have to say love, you lose all common sense when you're tired and sick."

I toss him an annoyed look as he places me back on my side of the bed. "You didn't have to do that, I could of..."

He cuts me off, giving me an annoyed look of his own. "No, you couldn't have, you have pneumonia. It's important for you to rest, especially if you are going to help me, with your brother and I need your help."

I sigh. I hate to admit it, but he is right. I can feel him smirking "Fine, you win! Stop it," I mutter, he continues, "James, if you want to continue being my boyfriend, you will stop it." I say half playful half serious.

No surprise to anyone, he stops. Seriously?" The word hangs in the air for a second, a hint of hurt in his voice. "You would break up with me?"

"No," I say quickly trying to reassure him, but truthfully, I am not sure given the current information that I now process what I am going to do!

James can sense my uncertainty, "what is bugging you?" he asks, drawing circles on my back. He props himself up on the other side "tell me… please." He turns me so that we are face to face. He looks at me for a moment with concerned eyes. "Did I do something wrong?" He asks, softly, the tone in his voice makes it clear that he believes it's something to do with him, and in a way, it is, but it isn't.

"No," I say as adamantly and convincingly as I can manage. He looks at me skeptically. "It isn't about you… At least not entirely." His face drops. "Can I ask you something?" He nods hanging on my every word, no clever retort. I sigh. "Are you from my future?" He looks confused. So, I decided that it would be best to explain my question. "I know you're from the future, but what I'm asking is… Before you came back in time, before all of this," I pause to gesture around the room. "Did you know me… Personally?" The look on his face makes it clear that he understands exactly what I am asking.

Deer in the headlights – complete deer in the headlights. "Yes," he answers quickly. "I knew you, personally, you were the one that trained me at Quantico and you were a friend of my family, you and your father." He then seems to realize that he used past tense verbs in that sentence. "Don't worry, you aren't dead. It's just time travel makes the English language even more confusing run it already is."

This causes me to laugh, "your father and I have an interesting history…" I say, before realizing now that probably should check and make sure that the man I'm thinking of is James father. "Your dad is Oliver Queen, right?" He nods and I do a silent sigh of relief.

My statement causes James to laugh as well. "I actually was aware of that, considering that you're one of my dad's favorite people, and that's a tough list to make." This causes me to smile. He then adds, "and I should know. I've been trying to get on that list for years." I can't tell if he is joking or not. I mean, it should be a joke and coming from him, and it is. Then again this is Oliver Queen we're talking about so all bets are effectively off. He then laughs. "That last part was a joke sort of"

I then decide that I should tell James that my father is coming. "Speaking of fathers mine is coming in 16 hours."

James face lights up like a Christmas tree. "Uncle Barry is coming over!" I laugh at how excited he is and then almost immediately cringe as I hear the word uncle used by my boyfriend about my father. I know it's honorary, but still weird very incredibly weird. I'm just going to go ahead and say it right here; time travel sucks just don't do it. You really do not want to do it unless it's unavoidable. I'm talking absolutely no way to get around it like the end of the world, or if a crazy dictator takes over the world and is about to commit mass genocide. Those are the only two options when it is acceptable for time travel and of course for my dad to have me, but that is obvious.

"Can we go to bed now? Because all this time travel babble is making my head hurt." I ask, he nods.

I start to roll over when he stops me with a hand against my shoulder, forcing me to once again be face-to-face with him. I raise my eyebrows in confusion. He smiles and gently kisses me. "Good night, Mallory, I love you," he says with a smile, releasing my shoulder.

"I love you too." I say, smiling slightly back in response. I watch as his smile widens. He turns off the lights with a clap. I roll over, what James doesn't know is that there is another part of the sentence. Another part which I wouldn't dare say out loud. The whole sentence is: "I love you too. Why does that seem like it's going to be a problem for both of us?"

I lay there for several minutes trying not to think of the psychopath, that wants to kill my dad, my brother and I and anyone within 100 feet of us. The fact that my other set of parents is now a set of mind controlled zombies (no, they don't have rotting flesh, but they came back from the dead and appear to have no free will. So, that's what I'm calling them.) Not to mention that my boyfriend is a time traveling James Bond, who is or was born, at least 15 or 20 years in the future. I'm really trying hard not to think about how disgusting that is.

I am eventually able to go to sleep, the first thing I am aware of is how fast my heart is beating I allow myself to let this overwhelming me and let all the details of my surroundings come into sharp focus. We are running through what appears to be an abandoned warehouse or farm when I say we I mean, my brother, James, and me. There are bullets flying everywhere and angry shouting in German great. Now we have the Russians and the Germans involved in the creation or acquisition resurrection technology. Just like that, we have got the trifecta of bad. They get closer, James turns around and fires directly at the assailants who return fire as I drag my brother who has this awestruck look on his face out. I look back just in time to see a bullet hit James straight in the chest.

I suddenly wake up in a cold sweat the blankets coiled around my body like a snake. My heart is still beating like I just ran a marathon that I decided to do on a whim. So many questions are swirling around in my brain, but there's one thing I know for sure something is going to cause James, my brother and me to run through an abandoned warehouse/farm where James is going to be shot in the chest and probably die. I realize that sunlight is pouring in the bay window, it's morning, which means it's to get up and get this crazy show on the road. I am about to get out of bed when I hear the door to my bedroom unlock, I grab my gun off the nightstand and aim directly at the door. The door opens to reveal James, who already dressed, staring at me and then he starts laughing. "Good morning to you too." He says finding it entertaining, that I just pulled a gun on him.

He walks over to me sitting down on the edge of the bed. He puts his hands over my own, and helps guide them down to my lap. My hands start shaking. "Mallory, it's okay, you can let go" my hands won't let go even though I want to, they won't stop shaking. He gently helps me release my death grip my weapon. He puts it in my purse and then puts me in my wheelchair. I get dressed and go to the restroom. I then make my way to the kitchen, where James is putting my breakfast on the plate. "There you go love." He says, placing the plate down in front of me. "You look pretty, as always." He comments, as he moves to sit down beside me.

"Thank you," I say quietly as I stare blankly at my plate before deciding that it was best to at least attempt to eat. I start eating, which is an interesting when everything tastes like paper-mâché.

It isn't until James clears his throat that I realize that we have been sitting in complete silence. "How are you feeling?" He asks, attempting to break the awkward silence.

"I'm feeling a little bit better, even though I can't taste anything now." I say, James cracks half a smile before returning to his food. I can't help but laugh at the fact that neither of us knows how to properly handle this situation.

My laughter causes. James to look up "what's so funny, love?" James is not understanding.

I continue to laugh putting my fork down into my plate because laughing and eating are never a good combination. The big confusion on his face deepens. I decide it would be best to explain. "Sorry," I say, wiping my face off with a napkin. "This is what's funny." I say, gesturing around the room. "We can't even talk to each other properly because of all this time travel crap." He looks shocked that I used the word crap in conjunction with the words, time travel. "That is no doubt going to cause problems for us later, when we go try to take on a corporation with the resurrection machine. So, the only way to solve that without getting one of us killed is for both of us to be open with each other and put all our cards on the table, agreed?"

James nods, "I agree, but, Mallory, there are some things I can't tell you because some things have to happen the way they happened or will happen in the future, as the case may be, and if I tell you, you may act in a different way to prevent it from happening, I'm sorry but I have to. It's protocol" James says, looking at the ground.

I am about to tell him to "screw the protocol" when I remember that I was the one that invented this protocol in the first place, to prevent younger me from collapsing the timeline. Well played older me well played.

"I was born on January 21, 2021, at Star General Hospital in Star City to Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoke. I have a younger sister named Moira Laurel Queen. She was born February 12, 2027 My godparents are Barry Allen and Caitlin Snow. I spent my childhood in Star City where my father was mayor and I trained to be the next Green Arrow. That all changed, in the spring of 2029, because after a particularly nasty crime rise the previous winter, my dad told my mother to take my sister and I and go to England, while he stayed behind to clean up the city. I was an awful child, but my mom raised us both very well." I see tears forming in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and then turns around to face me. "Then one day when I'm 16 I get a call from you saying that you're in town, and you need to see me so I go downtown to have lunch with you and you're crying. Your hands are shaking. You tell me that you need me to join the American Bureau of Time Travel Regulations because you need me to protect you from a dangerous man that could collapse the timeline if something isn't done. I've always wanted to be a hero so what do I do? I sign the papers, I go through the training and now I'm here with you." I sit there in stunned silence.

Wow, just wow, I can't believe I was so selfish that I didn't realize that when The Man in the Yellow Suit went back and changed the timeline that it didn't just affect me and my father, it affected everyone. It just so happens that we were the intended targets. "I'm sorry, James I'm really sorry."

His anger slowly dissipates and he stands up to give me a hug. "It's okay, Mallory, and I am sorry to you for getting angry. I just miss them." He gives me a hug. "It still wasn't right for me to take it out on you."

"I understand, and you never know, maybe you'll get to see them like you said, my dad and your dad are friends, so you'll more than likely see them again." I say, trying to make him feel better. He shakes his head, and I cross my arms. "That's against the rules too." I guess getting exacerbated with myself. "Wow, I am quite a stickler when I get older." My assessment of my future self must be quite correct because James stays mute on the subject. I then get an idea. "Seeing how I am the one who made all these rules and I am technically, your boss that means I can give you permission to break this one." I smile momentarily enjoying the fact that I had just outsmarted myself.

James looks at me briefly bewildered at what I have just done. "Are you serious, you're giving me permission to break rule 29?" Wait, there are so many rules that we must keep the number?

"Yes, James I'm giving you permission to break rule 29." His face lights up like a Christmas tree.

"In fact, the next time, dad invites them over I'll make sure you come over too." I promise.

"You're the best girlfriend ever!" He exclaims, kissing me with so much force that my chair moves.

"I know," I say as he pulls away. "We need to go, we have to kidnap my brother before my dad gets here." I'm never going to get used to saying sentences like that, James nods and quickly follows me out the door with our respective bags.

"I take it that I don't have to catch you up on anything," I shake my head. He already knows I read the files.

"You do not need to catch me up on anything, however, there's something that you probably should know." He gives me a nod to signal that he's listening since he can't look at me because he is driving. "His name is not Jonathan; his name is Carson Taylor"

I can see James's expression in the mirror. "I knew he looked familiar. Wait, isn't he the one you arrested for hacking the NDS?" I nod. "Didn't you shoot him in the butt when he was running away from you?" I cringe, I had forgotten about that part. James has a smile on his face about as big as the moon. "Oh, how he's going to love seeing you." He says with obvious sarcasm. If we weren't driving. I would punch him.

We pull into the parking lot of a coffee shop, "Carson comes here every day, around this time. Seriously, what is it with your family and coffee?" James jokes. I roll my eyes, grab his hand and head for the entrance.

The coffee shop itself is small and quaint. Once we are inside, it doesn't take me too long to spot my brother who is wearing the classic 1950s black leather jacket and jeans combo complete with sunglasses and is seated at the table by the window because better Wi-Fi. I walk over to his table and sit down. Immediately deciding to go the diplomatic route first because I don't want to give my brother yet another reason to hate me. "Carson, it's me, Mallory"

He takes off his sunglasses and looks at me. "Mallory?" He says, after a few seconds, clearly recognizing me.

He starts to get up. I put my hand over his "don't run, please. I know this may not make any sense, but I don't want to…" He leans forward and gives me a hug. Wait? What! This is not what I was expecting.

I immediately conclude that it is going to be more awkward for him, for me, and now for the three strangers watching us if I don't return the hug so I put my arms around him. "I'm so happy that you're safe." He says quietly, so that only I can hear before he lets me go.

I recover from my shock quickly. "So, I take it that you know?" I ask confusion once again pouring into my brain. I try to smile to match the ones he's giving me. That's the first time I've seen him smile.

"Yes, I know you're my sister, Mallory" his smile widens when he sees my expression "so are you and Bond working on the case, I sent you? " So, it was him who sent us the pictures.

I nod and motion towards the door. "Let's go back to the house and talk about it." I suggest and with that Corey and I leave the coffee shop with James following behind us.

"Good to see you Bond." Carson remarks, throwing an arm around James. When we reach the parking lot and James goes to lift me in the car. This happens. "What are you doing? What do you think you're doing?!" James stops and looks at him. "Move," James looks at him. "Move and get your hands off my sister." Carson says, squaring up against James. James for his part, quickly sensing my brother's aggressiveness elects to move out of the way. "Thank you, "Carson says curtly, before picking me up with surprising ease and putting me into one of the passenger seats in the back and he takes the other.

He quickly buckles his seatbelt and starts to reach for my seatbelt to buckle me in. I can't help but laugh. "Were you seriously about to buckle me in?" He nods, my laughter continues, "I can do it myself but thank you anyway."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you. I was just trying to…" He starts to ramble before I cut him off.

"It's okay Carson I know you were trying to help and I appreciate it." He smiles. "But next time, let me ask first."

He nods, "I'm just new at this." He laughs, "as I'm sure you can probably tell, I am not used to the whole family or team dynamic, I prefer to work alone. That way I am the only one responsible for the work and the only mistakes made are mine." Wow, that is quite a depressing outlook.

I silently thank my parents for teaching me that not all people are monsters, most are but some aren't. "So how much do you know?" I ask desperate to change the subject.

Carson eyes me for a second "I know that a psychopath in yellow leather murdered our parents has an unhealthy obsession with our biological father." My eyes widen, so he knows about The Man in the Yellow Suit. "Our father's name is Barry Allen." I must not look surprised. "You don't look surprised,"

I am screwed, now would be an appropriate time for a distraction, "I'm… He adopted me." I say nervously, unsure of how he'll take the news.

He looks at me sideways. "When?" That is all I get in response, a one-word question. He doesn't sound hurt just confused.

"After the Man in the Yellow Suit supposedly killed my parents and attacked me and hand delivered me to the front door. He didn't really have much of a choice." I say, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible.

No such luck, the second Carson hears this his eyes narrow. "You saw him?" He asks, eyes widening. I nod "Did he hurt you?"

"Yes," I say as quietly as I can, but unfortunately for me both my brother and James hear.

"What?!" The both exclaim with equally horrified expressions

"He stabbed me in the shoulder," they both look at me in shock. "It is not a big deal."

"Let me see…" My brother says gently sitting me up and moving my shirt so that he can see the damage caused by our favorite sociopath. "Ouch," he says, quickly moving my shirt back to its original place. "How is this not a big deal?"

I shrugged with a slight smile. "I have accelerated healing; my cells regenerate at twice the normal rate." I state feeling confident that I had given a satisfactory answer.

Carson looks like he wants to get further explanation, when James beats him to it. "A gift from your father, I would assume." James says, winking at me through the mirror.

"You are correct, James," I say, smiling slightly back. Only then, to become keenly aware that Corey is watching our exchanges like a hawk.

Penny in the air, Penny is about to drop. I watch him as he makes the necessary connections. Three… Two… One. "Wait a second, are you and Bond-lite fondueing?"

I almost choke on my own saliva and James turns the shade of a vine ripened tomato. "No, we are not fondueing, but we are dating." I am finally able to get out after the choking induced coughing fit, which was not helped by the fact I have pneumonia.

"Are you okay? That cough sounds really bad." He says, placing a hand on my back.

"I have pneumonia, something about jumping out of a plane and freezing water is not good for you." I say, my voice once again becoming the essence of sarcasm.

He looks at me "Mallory, you shouldn't be up, let alone out." I roll my eyes at him. He then focuses on James. "And you let her work, in her condition."

"Guys stop it!" I practically scream to be heard, it works I get their full attention. "Firstly, I decided to work. Secondly, James was against me working today, but I insisted. Lastly, it doesn't matter because we're at the house." I point out the window at the mansion. I was expecting a better reaction from my brother than I got.

He just nods, before picking me up and carrying me to the couch. "Lay still and try not to talk, talking will make your cough worse. Plus, Bond-lite and I pretty much can handle this." This is unbelievable, I guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree. "I know, what I can do" He says, getting his backpack, and pulling out a whiteboard and handing a dry erase marker to me. "Here you go. If you have something to say you can write it down and show the order James okay?" Carson asks me, I am about to open my when he stops me. "Whiteboard" I roll my eyes, but close my mouth. I take the cap off the marker using my teeth and draw a smiley face. "Good."

Finally, being able to have a conversation with my newfound brother brings up a lot of questions in my head as I'm sure it does with him, so I write the words " _20 questions?"_ I then turn the whiteboard to face him.

He laughs, "20 questions, more like 200! Can I go first?" I nod in response to his question. He sits forward, studying my face like he's trying to think of which question to ask first. "Our dad, what does he look like?" That is his first question. Oh boy, that's going to lead to a whole bunch of complicated questions. I think about the best way to explain it, I could just say "he looks like you." That statement is remarkably true, they're carbon copies of each other, but that would not account for the interesting age gap, and seeing that our dad could show up at any second I decide that the best option is to try and explain this convoluted mess to him using my phone, a whiteboard, and a marker. What the crap. How am I supposed to explain time travel with a whiteboard and a marker without the ability to talk?

I start to lean over to reach my purse when my brother gently places his hand on my shoulder and pushes me down, grabs my purse and hands it to me. I quickly search for my phone in the toxic wasteland that is my purse. I pull up a picture of dad and I, taken the night we met (it is hard to believe that that was only two days ago,) Before I hand my phone to him. I grab my whiteboard and write. " _You'll have more questions, once I hand this to you."_

He gives me a questioning look, as I hand him the phone. The second he sees the photo his eyes go wide and his mouth falls open. This is exactly the reaction I was expecting. "How?" He asks his voice sounds like he's in a trance as he hands my phone back to me, somewhat reluctantly.

In response. I smile slightly and laugh. " _My turn!"_ My written response does not convey the words with my wit and attitude, but it does get a look of amused annoyance from my brother. " _How did you cheat on the Louisiana Bar, Frank"_

Carson looks confused, "Mallory my name is Corey, not Frank, and I never took the Louisiana Bar are you alright?" He asks moving over to me and placing a hand on my forehead. "You're really warm."

James's eyes light up, "I'm pretty sure she's quoting a movie, Catch Me If You Can." Corey blinks as if he doesn't understand what he is talking about so James decides to elaborate. "You know, that really old one with Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hanks about the investigation into the forged checks. It's one of my favorite vintage films." He smiles at me with the "I understood that reference" smile.

"It's my favorite film!" Carson says with a genuine smile on his face.

" _How did you break out of prison?"_ I decide that this will be my first question I need to know if I can trust him. So just to be safe. I write "don't lie."

He goes pale. "Ah, so that's why you were quoting the movie you want me to give you the one part, you can't figure out on your own. I would never lie to you, intentionally" I urge him to continue. "I paid the piper, the Reverse Flash broke me out of prison." He stops looking directly at me trying to gauge my reaction to the news.

"What! You do realize that sociopath killed your grandma, your adoptive parents, your sister's adoptive parents and wants to kill your dad, right?" James asks, questioning my brother's judgement. James is red as a tomato, blood pumping through his veins which are bulging in his neck. He gets up and walks over to Corey. James glares at Carson "Do you know what you've done?"

"James!" I say cautioning him to calm down before he does something stupid, I don't quite understand why he is this angry. "James tell me why you're angry with him." I plead seeing him this agitated about something has me worried. He shakes his head and paces around the room. He stops at a blank wall beside the fireplace, and stares at it for a few seconds before giving a swift right hook to the wall. His fist goes through the drywall leaving a sizable hole in the wall. I look at him stunned.

His hand is bleeding. "Ouch, that really hurt!" He says reflectively.

"Yes, I bet it did, you're going to need to put that on ice." I say, trying not to laugh.

The second James leaves the room to retrieve an ice pack for his mangled hand Carson turns to me. His face is ghostly pale and he looks at me with wary eyes. "Woah, I've never seen him that angry." He says pensively, pausing for a minute. It looks like he is racking his brain going over everything he has ever done. "I don't get it, what did I do?"

I shake my head and mouth the words I don't know at that moment. James comes into the room again. "That is an excellent question Carson… Your basic existence here in this moment with us is an aberration, you should've died! He shouldn't have saved you he should've phased through your heart, you should be dead!"

"What do you mean, I should've died?!" Carson asks very alarmed at the fact that someone is telling him that he should be dead right now. Can't say I blame him!

"I mean exactly what I said, when did you get out of prison?" James asks dryly going to the end table beside the couch and retrieving a leather-bound notebook. "Was it by any chance, December 14, 2013?"

Carson's face pales his eyes widen and I become keenly aware of his quickening pulse. "Yes, " he says, when he gets his mouth to resume working. "Is that the date when he well, you know…" His voice is shaking and mutated not wanting to form the words, but what he is trying to say is clear.

James looks up from his notebook at Carson, or should I say, through Carson. James is looking at Carson the way you would look at frost on a door in the middle of December like it's not there. James looks at Carson like he's a ghost, which from James's notebook is what he should be. "I don't get it," he says frustrated. "The book clearly says Carson Henry Allen born September 13, 1998, dies December 14, 2013 at Iron Heights Prison, murdered by Eobard Thawne."

"Well, apparently, your book is wrong." Carson says as his voice slowly starts returning to its normal overconfident self.

This causes James to shoot him an annoyed look and come over to my side of the couch and shove the leather book in my face to the page with all the information about Carson on it. "See?" James says anxiously, pointing at the page. Oh boy, do I see not only do I see the dates as James keeps saying, I see something even more intriguing, this book is written in my handwriting!

"Ah, my handwriting!" I say, glancing at him in disbelief. "I'm assuming therefore you are so adamant that the book is correct."

"Yes, but your brother being alive, means we are in a double variant timeline." He says, like it is taking effort, not to punch a wall again.

"A what?" Carson and I echo together, I'm slightly confused, Carson is very confused.

"A double variant timeline!" James says again, before realizing Corey and I have no idea what he is saying. "Basically, when 2 events, from the original timeline are changed, not due to a paradox." That makes sense, sort of.

"You know this because…" Corey asks James with a wary look on his face.

"James is from the future!" I say, in response to my brother, who has a completely unbelieving look on his face.

"Okay, let me get this straight, you are dating him." He pauses and points at James. "He is from the future of an alternate timeline." James and I both nod. Carson gestures between the two of us. "Our father has superpowers because of a lightning bolt that struck him on the night of a particle accelerator explosion." He stops once again to look at me for confirmation that he is correct and then continues, "and now can harness the what's it called?"

"Speed force" James and I answer him in tandem.

"Speed force right. Our dad can harness the speed force. There is a guy with the same powers as our dad, but he is in the yellow and he hates our dad, and by extension us because of something our dad will do in the future. So, in retribution for that act that our father hasn't done yet, the yellow suit guy traveled from the future to the past to kill our grandma for some reason. Which will result in dad traveling back to the past to stop the yellow suit guy from killing his mom, which he will fail at. This will lead him to meet mom and have us in the past, at which point he will return to the future and we will grow up in the past. So, that in the present I can be in prison so yellow suit guy can break me out, and kill Mallory's parents." Carson finishes explaining the timeline of events.

"Yes, you're doing exceptionally well for a criminal and a dead man." James says dryly causing me to stare at him and shake my head.

Carson takes a shallow breath. "About the whole, me not being dead thing I don't mind." He says, chuckling nervously. "But does the universe? Will there be consequences?" He asks, staring blankly at the hole in the wall that James had made a few minutes ago,

James looks at the floor for a few seconds and releases a deep breath in a long hiss before looking up at my brother a few seconds later. "Will there be consequences?" He echoes my brother, sounding dumbfounded. "Another person is alive, use your brain. Think of course there is going to be consequences. There already have been…" He picks up his notebook off the arm of the couch and holds it in front of Corey "this is worthless now, this book contained everything that has happened and was going to happen in the timeline. I was supposed to use this book to keep your sister safe and now it's worthless." He slams the book and Corey lap.

I glance over at the book for a second, and then it hits me. "It's okay," I say quickly, "we don't need the book." I assure them. "We just need me," they look at me confused. "I can see the future." I admit, for the first time out loud.

Corey and James look at me intrigued. "How does it work?" They both pry me for information.

"I have visions, I don't know how they work, or even if I can control it." I answer the question to the best of my ability, which gives us half a millimeter more than nothing. "I think it happens when I'm in a highly emotional state, or when I touch something with great emotional significance." I say, looking for any way that my new ability can be of assistance in fixing the problems caused by the double variant timeline.

"That's good," James says with a newly energized smile as he gets up and leaves the living room. He returns a few seconds later with a black velvet box. He kneels on the floor beside me and opens the box. Inside of the box is in elegantly designed 2 carats at least diamond ring. "We can use this, can't we?" I stare at the ring and then at James, who decides to elaborate. "This was my mother's engagement ring, there's a lot of emotional sentiment in that ring." James says knowingly.

I nod in agreement. "Any woman who elicits a proposal from Oliver Queen has a lot of emotional sentiment behind her!" I lean forward and go to lift the ring out of the box.

All the sudden James stops me, our eyes lock on one another his hand is holding my left "please allow me," he murmurs not losing contact with my eyes. He takes the ring from out of the box and slides the ring on my left ring finger.

The second the ring is on my finger, my eyes closed involuntarily and I feel myself being dragged into the darkness to be shown whatever the timeline wants me to see. One thing is certain: I am not in control. I accept this to be a fact, and welcome it.

The first scene comes into focus: the first thing I realize is the perspective I am seeing this and is different this time it's first person, instead of third. I am seeing this future from my own point of view. I turn my head to look in the mirror. Sure enough, there is my face smiling back at me. I am wearing a dress and from the looks of it, a very expensive red lace dress. I am in the ballroom at Star City Hall or so, says the banner above the podium. Luckily, I can read. I recognize the man in the charcoal gray suit and black tie as Oliver Queen, although he looks slightly older than the last time I saw him. Then again, that was after the whole five years in hell thing so I decide to give him a pass.

"Mallory!" He says, smiling as he envelops me in a hug. "I'm so glad you could come to the party," he lets me go and stand back and looks at me. "With you being the district attorney of Central City in addition to your other extra-curricular activities…" He trails off, giving me a knowing wink.

A smile lifts my face and brighten my eyes. "I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Mayor…" I say cheekily causing him to laugh.

His eyes suddenly appear to have been robbed of the light that had possessed them a few seconds before. "Mallory, you remind me a lot of your mother… She would be so very proud of you." He has clear tears in his eyes, wait Oliver Queen knew my mother?!

"Thank you, Uncle Oliver that means a lot." I say, smiling back at him softly.

"You're welcome," he says, holding my gaze for a minute, before giving me a second hug. "Now if you will excuse me for a second, I have to go give a speech. Have a fun time. I love you." He gives me a kiss on the cheek before leaving to head towards the podium.

"Looks like you're getting pretty close to the mayor." I hear a voice call out from my right.

I turn around and smile when I see the speaker. "I could say the same thing about you, considering that you been the district attorney of star city for the past five years, Mr. Chase."

"I guess that's true. Speaking of district attorneys how do you like your new job, a 23-year-old being the district attorney of one of the biggest cities in our Tristate area? But I guess what was one to expect from the daughter of police Commissioner Barry Allen and late assistant district attorney Laurel Lance."

"What can I say I got the crime-fighting genes from both sides of the family." I say, trying to instill a lighthearted angle in this conversation.

"You know what people say about you?" He lets the question hang in the air, clearly seeing if I will take the bait.

I decide to play along. "Oh, I dread to think." I stay with mock horror rolling my eyes.

He looks at me slightly put off. "They say you have some sort of mission almost as if you are trying to save the world. Mallory Nora Allen always trying to save the world." He puts on a sideways smile.

"It's not an undesirable thing," I say, my smile growing wider I wheel closer and motion for him to lean down." And don't you think that is rich coming from an egotistical, gun wielding _vigilante_." I whisper into his ear and then wheel back slightly. I then help him straighten his tie. As I look up at his chalk white face. "Please do enjoy the party, Mr. Chase."

He stares at me for several seconds, with a blank expression on his face, before recovering quickly. "Have a good night, Miss Allen and if you ever need help with anything, please do not hesitate to call me." He says, shaking my hand, still looking quite shaken by our exchange.

"Wow, how did you do that to Adrian Chase and can you teach me how to do that?" A voice, I don't recognize says I instantly turn around to see a woman in her 30s with Golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes walking towards me.

I don't recognize her, but future me does "Felicity," I exclaim, oh, that's Felicity she is James's mother. "I told him that I knew he was vigilante." I tell her we both laugh.

"You are so much cooler than me. I never would've been able to pull that off without laughing my head off." We both smile and began laughing again. Suddenly I can see a match strike in her mind as if she has just remembered something of immense importance. "Oh, my gosh, I just remembered Oliver needs you on stage." She babbles quickly grabbing my hand and quite literally dragging me to a ramp which leads to the stage. "Go, go." She gestures in a shooing motion.

"Felicity!" I whisper-shout because Oliver is giving a speech a foot away from us. "What is going on?" I questioned her getting the slightest suspicion that there is an ulterior motive for all of this. She just continues to wave her hands in a shooing motion.

I make my way up the ramp and onto the stage where I am greeted with a round of applause and a smiling Oliver. He puts one arm around my back. "This is my goddaughter, Mallory Allen and she is a very important part of my life, my lovely wife Felicity and I think of her as a daughter." Another round of applause from the crowd Oliver waits for the applause to tie down before continuing, "which is why when my adoptive son James approached me about proposing to her. I was a little apprehensive, but excited at the same time." Proposing did Oliver just say, James is going to propose?

He did, he must have because at that moment, James appears in a classically tailored suit and stops directly in front of me. "Mallory, you and I have never had a normal relationship by any definition of the word for a multitude of reasons. I like to think that is the reason we work so well together, you know all my secrets and I know all of yours and I think you are the most beautiful, intelligent, charismatic, boss in the universe. Will you marry me?"

"No," I say quietly, the audience is stunned into silence. I break out into a smile. "I'm kidding of course I will." I say loudly, James feels relieved and he slips the ring on my finger, as the audience cheers.

I am pulled out of the vision as abruptly as I was overtaken. My eyes snap open as if someone has flipped a switch. I am still on the couch, but I am no longer sitting up. I am lying down with my head in my brother's lap. "Hey, sleeping beauty, for what it's worth, you scared the crap out of Bond and me." He looks terrified and has visibly gone three shades whiter, which means he's virtually transparent.

"What happened?" I ask him as I move to sit up. This causes him to place a hand behind my back, so that he can catch me if I start to list one way or the other. Oh wow. I guess it really was bad.

"I don't really know what to call what happened and neither does James, your eyes turned gold. They started blinking fast, then they snapped shut and you lost complete motor function and slid off the couch and almost into James you started shaking and doing all kinds of weird things with your head and neck. James and I were worried that you were having a seizure." He says as soon as I'm in a sitting position, although he does not move his hand.

"Carson, you can let go now I'm fairly sure I'm okay." I say reassuringly. His hand doesn't move. He looks at me warily for several seconds and then slowly releases his hold on me. "Whoa," I say as I fight to keep myself upright.

This causes my brother's hands to instantly return to their previous position. "Maybe you should lay back down." He says gently, guiding me to a laying down position. His forehead creases in worry. "What did you see?" Carson asks, intrigued by my new ability.

I sigh as I am questioned "Nothing," I say in an agitated voice, Carson raises an eyebrow. "At least nothing that has any bearing on the current situation that we are currently in."

"Oh, I'm sorry we made you do that, but at least we know it works." That's a good point, but it would be a lot more benefitable if I could control it. "I've been working on accessing the Project Firebird files."

"What did you find?" I ask quickly because quite frankly the sooner we get this over, the better!

"Do you think you can try to sit up again?" he asks me skeptically moving his laptop off his legs and helping me sit up once again. I nod, feeling slightly more stable.

"So, what did you find?" I asked, leaning to the right to get a better look at the laptop screen.

"Well, the Regenex Corporation files have 20 layers of encryption, most of which is remarkably like your father's protection software, I don't know if I can hack into it."

Unbelievable! They are using my father's technology to keep the resurrection technology safe. "Give me the laptop." I firmly suggest, Carson raises his eyebrows, but sets the laptop on my lap.

"What are you going to do?" He asks, sounding amused that I think I can do something with technology that he can't.

I continue typing, not bothering to look up at him. "Using the Austerhaggan key to get us into the corporation's mainframes." I enter a final number of commands into the computer and punch the air in excitement. "We're in, we can view all the files and prototypes."

"The Austerhaggan key is impressive, but I've never heard of it." He is genuinely impressed, although I can tell he is very unhappy that I know how to hack something and he doesn't.

"The Austerhaggan key is the back door, that is hidden in the program of every single piece of technology that is manufactured by Kelsey Drive Industries, and no, I will not teach you how to exploit it." I explain and quickly close the choice before he gets the idea.

I quickly hand the laptop back to Corey. "Okay, let's find where they're keeping your parents," he says as he ferociously types and scrolls through several pages of files, folders, and data entry logs. "Finally, here we go, Project Firebird" he says as he highlights a file near the end of page 26. He opens the file to find a box that says, _shall we play a game?_ "Great, just great how are we supposed to find the info?" My brother complains.

I take a deep breath and smile slightly, "like this, "I say as confidently as I can manage, as I type the word yes in the box and press enter. The box is quickly replaced by a black screen and suddenly a white line of text appears across the screen. Directions are to answer the question as it relates to you as truthfully and efficiently as possible. Do you understand? I type the word yes into the computer again.

A new line of text appears, _what is the debt that all men pay, but you will never?_ I know the answer, and it makes my hands start to shake as I realize exactly what it wants, what it knows! "Death!" I breathe out in a whisper before typing the word into the computer closing my eyes for a split second, before the word disappears because I don't want to see it.

My brother is confused by the very powerful five letter word that I had just breathed out and typed into the computer. "Wait, what does that mean?" He asks me. "Please don't tell me you're going all sixth sense, I see dead people route." He laughs, I shake my head.

"No, that's not what it means…" I tell him attempting to smile, but I can only force myself to go halfway. He stares at me slightly confused as to why my answer has affected me so much. I bite my lower lip and close my eyes, willing myself to give him the extra explanation, he needs. "The debt that all men pay is death." I say flatly, hoping that he will make the connection.

"Yeah, that much I figured out, but I don't get it, it says that you will never… Oh, oh I get it now. You can't die?" I shake my head. "You're immortal that is so awesome." He sees my face "Not awesome?" He gawks at me like I'm the world's biggest idiot. "How can not dying ever be anything less than awesome? Think about all the things you'll be able to do." He says, in response to my new life sentence that I have been contemplating for the past 4 months.

"You're right, and it probably will for the first three hundred years!" I concede quietly, before deciding that I need to say this for my own sanity. "But there is this one thing eventually I will lose everyone I love." Tears well up in my eyes, "that's what everybody gets wrong immortality isn't living forever, it's everyone else dying!" I quickly look away from him and stare at the computer screen to keep him from seeing the tears that are starting to fall from my eyes.

"Mallory" my brother starts trying to get my attention. "I… I'm sorry." He says, wanting to talk about my newly discovered immortality. I do not want to talk about this subject, and fortunately for me, the computer has written a new line of dialogue that demands our attention.

 _Identity Confirmed: Mallory Nora Allen. Access Granted: Location Data is now available._

I press the enter key and a set of coordinates appear on the screen I type them into Google Earth. "What?! No, it can't be it… It doesn't make sense." I am staring at a picture of the Tower of London.

"What are you going on about? "Carson asks, slightly annoyed by my sudden outburst, he glances over my shoulder and his eyes widen. "That's where they're hiding the resurrection technology."

"Apparently, according to this anyway." I say in a less than enthusiastic voice.

"Just call your boy toy and tell him to meet us at the tower in 20." Carson says grabbing our things.

I send him an icy glare as we head toward the door, "He's **not** my boy toy!" I say not amused by the choice of wording used to describe my boyfriend.

Carson just smiles slyly and laughs "MH mm, whatever you say I just know he's not mine," I look at him slightly perplexed "I prefer girls." He says in response to the look of confusion.

I playfully hit him in the arm there is a sudden gust of wind and then my father appears in all his red-suited glory. "Dad!" I exclaim dropping my bag and speed down the hallway to tackle hug him.

"Mallory," dad cries happily returning the hug, before throwing me a serious look, "How are you feeling?"

I open my mouth to respond with the words I'm fine, however, before I can even get the words of my mouth. Carson decides to respond for me. "She passed out, she's been shaking and clearly has a high fever. So, despite what she is clearly going to tell you she is not in any way fine." He finishes giving my dad a rundown of everything that has happened in the past four hours since he has been here. I give him a glare. "Sorry, but he's **our** dad, he needed to know!" Carson says defensively before he and I realize what possessive pronoun he used to describe our father. We share equal looks of horror.

Fortunately, though dad appears to not have noticed that detail and now has his entire attention on me, "Mallory, you passed out as in lost consciousness?" My dad asked me in that tone only a father can pull off. I nod, trying to be calm. "How many times has this happened?"

I take a deep breath. "Since I've been here or since I've been with you." I ask, secretly knowing the answer is going to be both.

"There is a separate count!" Both say alarmed, I nod "exactly how many times have you passed out?"

"All together…" I pause to count in my head, "7 times I think." I can feel the verbal beatdown coming.

"7 times! Mallory, when were you going to tell me?!" Dad asks conveying quite an impressive amount of anger at such little volume.

"I think we both know the answer to that question is, I wasn't planning to." I admit to him unapologetically. "Dad, I know that you're going to want me to rest and not do anything for a probably unbearable amount of time and I will, I promise you I will..." Dad raises an eyebrow, "but first we have to meet James and break into the Tower of London and disable or destroy destroying would be preferable super advanced technology that can resurrect people that was created or commissioned by a super shady secret organization of criminals, which apparently also includes my parents..." I rush the words of my mouth, the look he gives me is priceless.

"Mallory," dad draws out my name like he's getting tired of this song and dance routine and I can only guess that this is leading to a very long winded protest. "You should not be fighting bad guys when you have walking pneumonia, if anything, you should be in a hospital! How high is your temperature anyway?" My dad asks concerned. I shake my head. He laughs, "you haven't even checked it have to you!?" I shake my head, "Mallory," my dad says with another disapproving sigh.

"Dad…" I say preparing to begin my argument.

"Carson" my brother states suddenly, causing both my dad and I to stare at him. "Sorry to interrupt but if James isn't going to do this _Lone Ranger_ style, we need to get moving."

"Let's go!" I say, grabbing my gear, and looking back at dad with a pang of guilt at my defiance. "I'm sorry, I can't let him do this alone." I apologize, hoping he will understand.

"I'll go with you!" Carson says, getting up and walking towards the door.

I give him the side eye. "Do you have a weapon?" I ask, to which Carson pulls out a pocket knife. "Besides a switchblade because I don't think there's going to be much use for _West Side Story_." I say, rolling my eyes.

Carson puts the knife back in his pocket and sends me an annoyed glare. "Felons are not allowed to have a gun," he says simply.

He's right, I completely forgot about that. I grab my purse. "Can you shoot a gun?" I ask him in a serious tone, he nods. "I mean, accurately," he nods.

"Felon, as in felony?!" Our dad's voice interrupts us shocked. We nod, "who are you?!" He questions Carson. A clear protective anger rising in his voice. "Mallory, come beside me." He says motioning for me to come.

"Oh, what an extraordinarily long and involved answer this is going to be." I sigh, shaking my head. "You better tell him before he pins you against the wall and breaks James' three-thousand-dollar television." I encourage him.

"My name is Carson Henry Allen and I was born on September 13, 1998…" I can see the recognition, sparking behind dad's eyes and the wheels turning, he's figuring it out…. Penny in the air, penny dropped.

"You're my son…" Dad says, his voice is full of emotion and weight. His eyes are somehow softer and heavier at the same time as he carefully makes his way towards Carson, who is barely breathing very shallowly and fighting to hold back tears. Dad opens his arms to Carson in a wordless invitation of love. Carson crashes in to dad with so much force that he almost knocks dad over. I watch them smiling softly at the display in front of me. They let go of each other and look at me. "Well, this was certainly unexpected, but I love you both." We both smile and nod. "Carson, you've got a lot of explaining to do… A felony? Seriously?" Dad asks his attention now fully on Carson, who for once in his life, looks ashamed.

"Look, dad it is a really long, convoluted story that I'm sure we will have time to tell you on the plane, but we can't do it right now because right now, my boyfriend is getting ready to break into the tower of London to destroy some resurrection technology that is being bankrolled by a shady corporation that has turned my parents into extras from The Walking Dead." I say, handing my brother extra service weapon. "I'm trusting you with this, be careful and don't make me regret it." I say firmly locking eyes with my brother as I let go of it. He gives me a reassuring nod.

"Okay, let's go! I'm assuming you're going to need a lift." Dad says, picking me up and prepping to run when the "B" word that I had just said catches his attention. "Boyfriend!" He exclaims in shock. "You have a boyfriend?" He asks, not thrilled with the idea.

"Yes," his mouth opens about forming another question. "Dad, save the world, now talk later." I say to appeal to my father's heroic nature I appear to have been successful as dad nods reluctantly, before speeding away with me in an array of dizzying lights and distorted sound.

He places me down on the gravel pathway leading to the Tower of London. "Honey, I'm going to get your wheelchair and your brother, okay I'll be back in a second." I nod curtly he disappears.

The second he is gone I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist and turn me around to face him, I squeal in surprise, and then see who it is. It's James, "did you just squeal?" He snickers. I punch him in the chest, half playing half serious. He looks at me with a gleam in his eye. "I thought it was cute." He says, looping my arms around his neck. "Hello sweetie," he mummers, before planting one on me with enough force to dip me backwards.

We are interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly. James instantaneously brings me back to my original upright position. They both look and see my dad standing there, arms folded with an unamused look on his face. Standing next to a very pale green looking version of my brother who is now holding on to the railing on a set of stairs. A gust of wind and suddenly my chair as the right beside me, another gust of wind and I am sitting in the chair. My father is standing beside me staring James down. "I'm Barry Allen and I am Mallory's father." He says simply extending his hand to James, who looks down at it petrified.

"I'm, uh James Anderson," James says, sounding extremely nervous as he clumsily shakes my father's hand. He checks his pockets and is finally able to produce his credentials. "James Anderson of MI6, at your service, Sir," it takes me a minute to realize that James is holding his badge upside down. Dad turns the badge the right way around again. James turns a deep shade of red due to embarrassment. "I am a liaison between MI6 and the O. L. Y. M. P.U. S. Division of A.R. G. U. S. Which your daughter works for…"

"Are you dating my daughter?" My father asks, not ecstatic about the idea.

James looks at him for a moment. "Yes, Barry," dad raises an eyebrow. "I mean, Mr. Allen, Sir" James mumbles through nervously. "I really love your daughter and I have nothing but the utmost respect for her." James says with commitment, although he still looks petrified.

"You better," dad says firmly, "because if you hurt her in any way I will have no problem crossing the ocean and giving you a talking to, and if that doesn't take. I know a guy who likes to put arrows in people." Dad is completely serious and James knows it. Dad laughs. "James, you can let go of my hand now." James instantly let's go of dad's hand and mumbles an apology. Dad looks out at us. "Okay, everyone. Let's get ready to fight some zombies" dad sounds somewhat enthused about the prospect.

We make our way up to the tower to the main entrance, which is protected with an electronic keypad Carson produces a key card and is about to swipe it. I start hearing voices and seeing flashes of images from earlier today. I put my hand on Carson's arm and shake my head. "They know we are here, they've had you under surveillance for months. _He_ told them. They want us here," I say with confidence.

Carson's eyes widen. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm pretty sure I would know world's best hacker and all." He says, using his overconfidence to mask the fact that he is freaking out on the inside.

I nod quickly. "Don't ask me how I know, I just know!" I say with conviction Carson folds his arms and shakes his head. As I turn to James. "The book… Does anyone else have a copy?" I ask secretly dreading the answer because I just stumbled upon a bad idea.

James face drops, having the same terrifying thought that I had stumbled upon moments before. He takes out the leather-bound journal and turns it over and back again, and holds it up. "This is the original, but there is a copy at The Flash Museum." I exhale in a hiss and lean my chair up against the wall. "It is very heavily guarded…" James says, offering up some good news, but I have a feeling the reason he stopped there isn't good.

"But someone with the speed force can bypass the security measures, right?" I say, the only thing that's been on my mind since I saw the book. The look on James's face tells me all I need to know. The answer is a resounding yes, "he has the book!" I say out loud with absolute certainty.

"He has the book you mean the book that contains all the information about us and the future!" Carson says on the brink of exploding in a frenzied panic. "This is bad, this is really bad." Thank you, Carson, for saying the unbelievably obvious.

"Maybe not, the book contains information on the original timeline, not the altered one, we are currently in." James says, trying to add some bright spot to our situation.

Carson feels relieved. "Oh, okay, we're back to good. That was close." I shake my head. They're forgetting one major detail. "No, we're not good? Why are you shaking your head at me?" Carson asks beginning to go and freak out mode.

"No, we're not good. You're forgetting one major detail: the book contains all the details of the original timeline, which is exactly what you would need to change it." I say out loud to the group, hoping that someone, anyone will figure out what I am insinuating so that I don't have to outright explain to my dad that the psychopath, that killed his mom did so by using the information; that is in the book that I am holding. Oh, crap does not mean that I am complicit in the murder of my grandmother? You know what, for the sake of my own sanity, I'm going to say no and stop thinking about it!

I sit there silently praying that someone will figure it out when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up and see Carson has the "the cat that ate the canary" look on his face. I know he's figured it out. "Dad, I think that Mallory needs some air." He looks at me. I nod, somewhat weakly.

Carson leads me out of the tunnel and around the side of the building. Once he is sure that dad is not following us. He begins, "so the guy that you know killed our grandmother is using the book of secrets to alter time for his own personal gain!" I nod as confirmation glancing at him and biting my lower lip. "What are you not telling me?" He prods. "You're doing that thing with your lips that you do when something's bothering you like when you're trying to decide how big a deal something is." He explains in a ploy to get me to tell him.

"I don't think our grandmother died, in the original timeline." I admit, quietly to avoid making a big display of the information because I'm sure that it is true, and that is what worries me.

"That's a big deal. That's a big deal, we have to tell dad." Carson whisper shouts, starting to head towards dad and James.

I put out my arms stop him. He looks at me. "Carson, we can't tell dad!" I exclaim as quietly as I can while still giving the point across Carson stops staring at me blankly waiting for an explanation. "We can't tell him because if we tell him dad will try to go back to the original timeline, which he can't do because the original timeline doesn't exist anymore." I say, explaining the basics.

"Why not?!" Carson questions pressing me for details, sounding both skeptical and interested at the same time.

"Look Carson, James would be a lot better in explaining this." I say prefacing what I'm about to say and hoping to get out of explaining this and letting James do it. I can tell by the look on Carson's face, though, that I will be having no such luck. I take a deep breath. "As I understand it, time is like that Ching Dynasty vase that you knocked over when you were running away from me in Shanghai, the one that I had to pay for!" I say, figuring examples are the best way to go.

"Sorry about that but I would not have done it if you hadn't shot me in the butt. I still have trouble sitting on airplanes and trains because of you!" Carson retorts simultaneously defending himself and complaining unbelievable!

"I'm sorry I really am sorry about that, but I wouldn't have shot you in the butt if you hadn't run away from me, after I told you to stop, three separate times! I fire back Carson opens his mouth to respond, but I am not done yet. "Another thing, I wouldn't have been chasing after you if you didn't do something massively illegal for a foreign country." Carson gives me a shrug and a look that says you're right. "Anyway, just like the vase, no matter how good of a restoration job you do. You can still see the cracks, making it look different from how it originally was!" I finish my explanation of how time works, or at least how I understand it to the best of my ability.

Carson gives me a slight smile. "I got it, you're pretty good at explaining this stuff." I smile back as he pauses momentarily deciding whether or not he wants to say something else. He gives me a hug. "I love you, I think it is important for you to know that and I'm not mad at you." He says, sounding completely sincere.

"Oh, look at you I thought you don't do sentimental and sincere Mr. I prefer to work alone."

We both laugh, "maybe that's because I've never had someone to be sentimental with, no one has ever been there for me and been my family like you! I know you're going to think I am crazy, but that's partially why I did it, why I hacked into international banks and governments and broke out of prison because I knew you would be the one assigned to hunt me down, you were the one constant in my life and I wanted to see you." He tells me turning serious. I can tell he's being honest.

I had him tighter and look at him. "Are you trying to make me cry?" He smiles, "I love you too, and I'm not mad at you, either. I think you made some dumb choices, but I'm not mad."

He lets go and laughs. "I'll take it," we head back towards dad and James, who are standing there staring at each other and uncomfortable silence.

The second I return to my original spot against the wall. Dad breaks eye contact with James and walks over towards me. "Are you okay?!" Dad asks, cupping my face in his hands and looking into my eyes. "You were out there for a really long time." He adds, playing with my hair. "You know that I can take you and your brother home, if you need to." He says, reminding me, it's funny how he looks directly at James, while saying this.

"I'm okay, I promise. And I promise to let you, baby me when I get home, but this is important." Dad lets go of me and appears to accept what I am saying begrudgingly.

Suddenly the door opens, causing all of us to turn our attention towards the door. A woman wearing a black velvet pantsuit and a name tag that says Anna Walker walks over to me. "Hello Ms. Allen, my name is Anna Walker and I am the head of developmental research at Regenex Corporation and we've been expecting you." She says, quickly, shaking my hand before turning on her heels, going back through the doorway motioning for us to follow. "Come on, I would be most appreciative if you would hurry because I do have other appointments today." She says, passive aggressively in a cheery tone of voice.

The open room invitation slightly aback takes me, but realistically it isn't even the third most abnormal thing I've seen in this week! So, I shrug fix my face with a halfway decent attempt at a smile and follow her through the doorway. I am followed quickly by James, who instantly reaches for my hand to hold it. "I don't your father likes me very much." He says, sounding very sad. As we follow her through a series of dark corridors before stopping in the middle of a huge room lined with metal pod looking containers on both sides. It is extremely expansive there is no telling how many metal pods there are in this room.

I look at James. "Don't worry about my dad, I'm pretty sure he would hate a brick wall, if I was dating it." I say, smiling, trying to make him feel better. He smiles back. "In fairness, he has only been my father for three days and you didn't make a great first impression." He nods, before staring over my shoulder which causes me to turn around and see that my dad and Corey have made it into the building. I follow my dad's eyes to my left hand where he is staring at it and looking very, very unhappy. I look down at my left hand. Oh, my gosh, I'm still wearing the ring. No wonder dad is so upset with James. "It may also have something to do with the fact that I have a 2 ½ carat diamond engagement ring on my finger." I say, pointing down at my left hand.

James looks at me. "No wonder your dad hates me, I'd hate me. He thinks I asked you to marry me without asking his permission." James says, laughing quietly. "What are we going to do?" James asks nervously.

"Well, I can't take it off now because I don't want to lose it in this place and plus if I take it off now and hand it back to you, it looks like you broke off the engagement which will make dad mad because he will think you hurt me!" James nods but looks expectantly at me. "So, we're going to wait until we get back to your house where we can sit him down and explain it to him and hand you back the ring without any confusion." We make a silent agreement on the plan then turn our attention back to pantsuit lady who is standing in the middle of the room.

"I'm so glad you could join us today on a tour of our central office here at the tower of London." She says, clapping her hands excitedly. "The main goal of the Regenerative Experience Corporation, also known as Regenex Corporation is to provide extended life services, meaning providing a means of life after death for our clients that are willing to pay for it." I roll my eyes at her introduction, it sounds like a bad infomercial. "To provide the best quality of extended life. We invest in countless trials and experiments and activities all paid for by our corporate and private donors." She plasters a fake smile on her face, before continuing, "it really is amazing, to be eligible for extended life services, you must be recommended by an internationally recognized government or private institution." She pauses for a couple seconds. "Feel free to look around. Please," she says in that unsettling cheery tone that sounds like a mechanical Mary Poppins. She taps me on the shoulder. "Miss Allen, I hope you don't mind but I need to speak with you in my office privately." She says quietly.

I glance back at my father. "Is this about my parents?" I question her.

"Partially…" She says, letting that word linger in the air. "Just please come to my office, I am not allowed to discuss matters about your particular situation out in the public" she says her voice now with a hint just below the surface.

"Dad!" I say to get my dad's attention so I can tell him where I am going.

Dad turns around. I feel the lady put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mr. Allen, but I need to talk to your daughter alone, we will be in my office," she says, gesturing towards a door a little further down the hallway.

"She's a minor!" Dad exclaims in protest. "I'm coming with you." He says, walking towards us.

She looks at him with a slight degree of sympathy. "I understand your concerns, Mr. Allen." She says, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out an expensive looking business card and hands it to my father, who looks on it in silent frustration. "Unfortunately, you are not on the list of people that can know the details of the Rosses particular situation." She pauses aware that the information she is giving him is not going to be received particularly well. "If you wish to voice a complaint or have the details and the reasons of your exclusion explained to you further, you can call that number anytime between the hours of 8 AM and 5 PM, Monday through Friday." She says, pointing at the phone number in the middle of the card and thus concluding her very clearly rehearsed speech.

Dad stands there unmoving anger shown on his face. He is glaring at her with a fury, she glares at him. They both stand there clearly at an impasse both are intense, but for different purposes: dad's protection, hers: I'm not sure. I close my eyes and allow myself to open my mind for the first time since discovering that I can read minds. It's strange. Suddenly I'm hearing billions of voices, all of them inside my head, one hundred and ninety-six languages, amazing! I need to focus. I take a deep breath and pinpoint the area I want to listen to. Breathe in, breathe out the number of voices, I am hearing clearly gets smaller. Breathe in, breathe out. Got you! I hon in on that mechanical rehearsed voice. I understand instantly she is afraid of someone or something! I open my eyes and close the void. "Dad," I say, loudly to get his attention over the argument. He looks at me. "It's okay, let me go with her. I can take care of myself. I promise." I tell him calmly, giving him a half smile, and letting the lady go in front of me.

I follow behind her and reach her office rather quickly. As soon as I am inside, she gets up from her desk and shuts the door. I hear the lock engage, her office is white, everything is white the chairs, the desk and even the walls. She sits back down in her chair behind the desk. "Thank you for reassuring your father that I can talk to you." She says, giving me a clearly fake smile and same mechanical laugh.

"You seem nervous…" I remarked as nonchalantly as I can. Her eyes dart to the corner of her desk where an eerily familiar looking brown leather journal. I recognize it instantly. It's a copy of the book of the timelines. Now that's peculiar why would she have it, how could she have it? Oh, I know what happened! "What's that?" I asked, intent to test out my theory as passively as I can.

Her eyes grow wide. "Oh, umm the journal my boyfriend gave it to me." She babbles nervously.

I lean up and close the space between us so that I can be sure that she gets the picture. "Your boyfriend gave you a journal okay, I'd buy that your security is good here!" I muse. "I bet no one but you can get back here…" Her bottom lip twitches. "Until someone did," I say, knowing that my assumption was correct.

She sits there, and stares at me in shock. "How?" She questions me her voice is almost inaudible, her lips barely moving.

I feel a sudden burst of sympathy for this lady. "He didn't tell you, I'm a spy, did he?" I ask . She shakes her head no. "You weren't involved in any of this until my parents died a few days ago, were you?" I sigh, leaning back in my chair. She doesn't know anything more than I do. He was just using her.

She shakes her head again. "He was here when I came into my office on Sunday. He was sitting behind my desk. I told him to get out and called security." She pauses. She is starting to hyperventilate. "Next thing I knew he had me penned up against my desk." She reaches her box of tissues. "He had your parents body bags and gave me a hundred and twenty thousand dollars to bring them back and make them susceptible to suggestion. He sped out of here and left this on my desk." She says, holding up the journal for me to see. "I don't even know what this is." She says wiping her eyes. "But it had a note on it that said that I wasn't supposed to touch it." She says, still shaken up.

I take the journal from her. It has a deep pink ribbon tied around it. I untie the ribbon and realize that the journal is new, it is beautiful deep purple leather and the color of my superhero outfit with roses etched into the leather, I realize now the journal wasn't brown originally but with age. When I gave my copy to James in the future, it was forty years old. I feel the latch that holds the book shut is in the shape of a lightning bolt. I open it inside the front cover is written, Happy 16th birthday my beautiful enigma. I look forward to completing the circuit with you! Love your favorite sociopath, Eobard Bartholomew Thawne. "It's a message for me, it has nothing to do with you. He gave it to you to give to me." I say, hoping this will calm her down.

She nods. "I'm sorry, about your parents." She says quietly reflectively, looking ashamed.

I nod, backing away from her desk, looking at her firmly. "There's nothing you could've done! This has absolutely nothing to with you or the company he was using you as a means to an end. It's not your fault," I say as absolutely as I can, to absolve her from guilt.

I put the journal in my lap and start towards the door. Her arm catches me as I am about to walk out the door. She kneels down in front of me so that we are at eye level with one another. "Is it true? Is it true what he told me about you?" She whispers eyes gleaming with sympathetic intrigue.

"What did he tell you about me?" I ask serious and slightly nervous.

"That you're immortal?!" She says in a serious tone that matches my own a few seconds earlier. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I just want to help you. That's the whole reason I got involved with this company in the first place." I feel like she is genuinely telling me the truth for the first time today.

"Yes," I say simply, before turning and walking out the door.

"Mallory, if you ever find someone you can't stand to lose. I will be more than happy to help you." She calls sincerely , before waving goodbye and sitting back down at her desk.

"Thank you," I say honestly grateful for her offer. As I walk back towards the group, although the more I think about it the more I become convinced that I could never do that to any not even James.

"So what about your parents?" Dad asks gently looking at the dissatisfied look on my face. Carson walks over to me and gives me a hug. Clearly, assuming the worst.

Carson lets go of me. "They are alive, but it's a very complicated situation. One that we cant solve now, but eventually, maybe." I say, not really wanting to go into details of mind control by sociopath.

Dad looks at me. "I'm okay with that. If you're okay with that." Dad says, giving me a hug. I smiled to signal to him that I am indeed okay with that. "Okay, let's go home, my Tornado Twins" Carson that I look at dad for an explanation of the interesting choice of nickname "you all came into my life very suddenly and turned it upside down." Okay, we get it now. That's pretty good nickname for us. "Don't worry, it was very good, kind of tornado" dad adds, causing us to laugh.

I look at him. "Dad, you can't forget. James he needs to go home too." I say, making sure that dad is still aware that James is still part of the group.

"Honey, I love you, but James is not staying at our house with us. That is where I draw the line!" Dad says very firmly.

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant James has to go home to America because that's where he works with me on the Olympus task force." I say, dad relaxes and apologizes to James.

"Before we do that can we stop by a restaurant and get something to eat because I am …" Carson says, before passing out. Luckily, dad and I are able to catch him before he hits the asphalt of the parking lot.

Also in the column of luck, he is not very heavy, which is very much appreciated. Dad goes around to the driver side and get in the seat and puts on his seatbelt. I somehow manage to manhandle Carson and put him in between James and I which I think that is very happy about. "Umm… Mr. Allen is your drivers license valid in England?" James asked dad trying to subtly remind him that he is in England before he gets into trouble, dad shakes his head and swaps places with James, so we don't get pulled over by the cops.

Carson opens his eyes. "Hey guys," he says we both look at him. "So to whoever put me in the car. Thank you!" He mumbles, looking at dad.

Dad laughs. "Don't look at me. That was all your sister." Carson turns his head towards me . His eyes widen in surprise. "Are you okay?" Dad askes worrying over us both.

Carson starts to sit up. "Yeah, I think so. I've just been kind of dizzy for the past couple of hours." He mumbles, incoherently.e

I pout . "No fair! Passing out for no reason was supposed to be my thing!" I joke.

Carson laughs. "I'll gladly give it back to you." He smiles. "You just made a joke you can be funny when you're not all, I'm a secret agent and everything is all really serious and I have to talk about everything. One octave lower because this is my serious voice." Carson says doing an overly dramatic, but otherwise pretty good impression of me.

I can't let him get away with that though. "Watch it. Mr. I'm so cool because I can hack into anyone's account for enough money. Look at me. I have a beach house and am always surrounded by at least six models. Nevermind that I wanted in a dozen countries , I am still the best." I'm say over doing my impression of him just a little bit.

He looks at me slightly appalled. "My God, am I really that insufferable?!" He exclaims clearly realizing how he appears to act for the first time.

"No." I say, "no," I say again, this time trying to sound like I actually believe what I say.

James tosses a look at Carson through the rearview mirror. "Yes, Carson yes, you are Mallory is just being kind because she's your sister." James says as if it is a fact which technically it kind of is.

"James!" I hissed in disbelief at what he said to my brother and how he says it. James pulls into the parking lot of a fancy looking restaurant and everyone gets out. "James, what are we doing here?" I whisper in his ear incredibly thankful that I am wearing a dress that James had picked out for me this morning. "Don't you think this is a little bit too much ?" I ask him as we walk into a very elegantly crafted building with sculptures and chandeliers all over the place.

He chuckles amused that the look of awe on my face. "Sorry darling, but this was already planned before I knew we were going to have company." He says, giving me a wink. He walks up to the hostess and smiles. "I have a reservation for two under Anderson" she smiles and nods signaling us to follow her.

We follow her out onto a balcony made of elegantly carved stone that looks out over the river and has a spectacular view of London bridge. She makes my chair out of the way so I can get under the table. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She muses to me. I nod, once again, awestruck at the immaculate beauty of the best place. She continues, "you're so lucky" her eyes have caught the ring . "This is the best table in the restaurant." She says, placing our menus down and walking away.

"James…" I say, looking at him with wide eyes. "This really is too much." I state firmly shocked by the overwhelming links he has gone to. "It's beautiful, and it's perfect, but it's absolutely too much." I say protesting.

He reaches across the table and grabs my right hand rubbing against it with his thumb. He smiles widely. "I had a feeling you would say that, and that is one of the many reasons I love you." He laughs and looks at me seriously. "You are my girlfriend and it is your birthday in a couple of days, so no, this is absolutely not too much!"

I roll my eyes and nod reluctantly giving into this extreme display of affection. He smiles content with his winning. "Fine, but if you're going to do this. I'm going to order whatever I want Mr. Millionaire" I say, having fun teasing him about his newly discovered wealth.

He laughs. "Of course, go ahead, love." He pauses. "Although that Mr. Millionaire nickname isn't entirely accurate." I raise an eyebrow. "Technically…" He draws it out. "Technically, it should be Mr. Billionaire." My mouth gapes slightly.

"Billionaire with a B?!" I stutter reaching for my glass of tea.

"Yes, love, I do believe that's the only way you can spell billionaire unless you Americans have some weird way to spell it like how you leave out the u in colour" he says teasing me. "Yes, I am a billionaire with a capital B"

The waitress brings food and puts it down on the table. "Excuse me, ma'am, but we haven't ordered anything yet." I say, staring at the waitress and then the plate and back up at my boyfriend, who looks just as confused as me. "James did you order for us ahead of time?" He shakes his head. "Ma'am, you need to take this back. This is not our food. We haven't ordered yet," I tell her, attempting to hand her back, the plate back.

She narrows her eyes,"that's funny." She says reaching into the front pocket of her apron and pulling out her notepad and pen. "See," she asks pointing at the ticket. "Sweetheart table timestampted 6:17 P.M"

I look at the ticket. Sure enough, it has exactly what she said on it. "That's okay" I tell her, trying to hide the fact that I am panicking. "Maybe I forgot that we ordered." I say. She gives a slight smile and walks away. "That's really weird and unsettling, but this was what I'm, going to order anyway, and I'm certainly not going to waste food. There's starving kids in the world." I say, picking up my fork and starting to eat my food.

James starts eating too. "This was what I was going to order too." He says, putting his for down on his mark and nodding to the right. "There is your father and your brother so maybe he ordered for us?" James suggests.

I shake my head. "That makes sense for me, but not for you." I say, shooting down that theory. "He barely knows you, for that matter he barely knows me?" I say, locking eyes with dad, who smiles, but has a very unhappy expression on his face when he sees James and I holding hands. "Speaking of which we better explain to dad that you are not trying to steal his little girl." I say, James looks at me nervously. "Don't worry, it will be fine." I whisper to James, before turning to face my dad's table to see that he's already heading this way. "It looks like he is already coming over here." I say, giving his hand a squeeze.

Dad gets to our table and pulls up a chair and sits down. He sighs. "look , I waited on this for as long as I can stand. "He begins "James, I don't know how long you and Mallory, have been dating." He says, the last word, like it tastes like vinegar and lemons. He looks at James awaiting an answer.

"About a year and a half, Sir," James answers my dad clearly nervous.

"Okay," dad says clearly doing some math. He turns to me. "You were fifteen?" He says, a little surprised, I nod. He turns back to James. "How old were you?" Dad asks , looking very interested in the answer, he will be given.

"I was sixteen, Sir don't worry I got her father's permission." James says still a nervous wreck.

"That's okay, James," dad says kindly sensing how worried James is about talking to him about our relationship. "An age gap of a year is fine." Dad says reassuringly, James relaxes. Dad eyes narrow focusing on the ring. "Mallory, give me your hand." Dad says gently, I let go of James's hand and place my left hand into my father's "that's beautiful." Dad says quietly. He pulls his eyes away from the ring. "How long have you been planning this?" He asks, looking at James.

"Mr. Allen, this is not what it looks like ." James says to my father, trying to explain the real situation to my father.

My dad laughs. "James, believe it or not. I know what an engagement ring looks like and that certainly is an engagement ring." Dad says, looking at James' expression "Now would I have preferred that you waited six, seven, eight years yes, and do I want you to wait for 2, three years before you have the wedding yes, but you didn't, and it happened so as much as I'm freaking out. I'm not going to make you break off the engagement because that would hurt my daughter and I don't want to do that." Dad says, staring at me.

James looks at dad. "Thank you, mister Allen that means a lot to me, but…" James starts. Dad looks at him like he is extremely confused. "But, Mallory, and I are not engaged it was a misunderstanding." James says as quickly as possible.

Dad squeezes my hand and looks at James. Like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey. "What!" Dad exclaims." You giving my daughter an engagement ring is a misunderstanding?" Dad asks fuming." How can someone misunderstand that?" He is an extremewoly angry dad, right now.

"Dad, it's okay," I say dad looks at me and shakes his head. "I never thought we were going to get married. We were using the ring to try and figure out how my visions work." I say, trying very hard to get him to calm down.

Dad blinks "so you're not engaged and he didn't break your heart, and smash it into a million pieces with a sledgehammer." Dad says slightly more calm at the prospect, although he is still giving James one heck of a side eye.

I smile and can't help but laugh slightly. "I am not engaged and he did not smash my heart with a sledgehammer."

The relief is undeniable on his face. "Oh, thank God." Dad exclaims, a little too loudly, causing people to turn and look at us. "I'm sorry but I thought I was going to have to buy a wedding dress and venues, and call you son-in-law." Barry says, and then noticing the look of disappointment on James's face lowers his voice. "It has nothing to do with you, James. Really it doesn't it's just I just got my daughter and I'm not ready for anyone to take her away just yet." James nods to signal that he understands. "Also, I'm twenty-five, I'm way too young to be anyone's father in law." He says, laughing.

Suddenly there is a cold gust of air and a flash of yellow light. " Awww... That is so sweet. I think I'm going to puke!" I don't need to look behind. I know who is here. I recognize his voice, his absurd a level of arrogance, his showmanship in every word, almost like he is performing for an audience. The Man In The Yellow Suit has made his entrance.

"Dad!" I say, panicking dad instantly realizes what is happening. Dad reaches for me to move me out of the path of The Man in the Yellow Suit. Unfortunately, I feel a pair of arms, grab me from behind.

A whirlwind of colors and suddenly we are at the front of the restaurant. He has a hand at my throat and the other around my waist. A flash of red lightning and dad is there followed by Carson and James. "If you hurt her, I will…" Dad says threatening The Man in the Yellow Suit.

He laughs clearly finding it very amusing. "You'll what?" He taunts . "Kill me…, Come on, Barry, you and I both know that you don't have the guts because, you are good." He patronizes my dad. Dad glares at him. "Oh, there's the look of fury I see so much from you in the future." He says, sounding pleased almost giddy. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill her. That's actually quite impossible." He says, taking a jab at my immortality. I squirm in response. He tightens his grip. "This is just to make sure she doesn't move." He directs his attention to James, who is pointing a gun at his throat. "Oh please, stop with the gun, and the threats and the blah, you of all people know you can't kill me, you know that's not how any of this ends." He sneers at James, who lowers his gun. "Be careful, Mallory, he knows more than he is telling you ." He whispers in my ear disapprovingly. "Ask him about your parents," he prodes "ask him if he knew." His voice maintaining the same volume, but his tone darkening. He snickers quite content at the seeds he has planted in my mind. His eyes drift to the left until they stop on my brother. "Ah, yes, then there's you, the prodigal son wonder boy, don't worry, that's not your name. I just can't be bothered to think of it." Carson's expression distorts "your arrogance is what really gets you. That's why you will never be a hero." He says smugly before releasing me with no warning.

I am falling then something really strange happens, I see silver lightning coming towards me at a remarkable speed. I feel myself being caught being held securely. The face I am looking at is not the one I was expecting. "Carson," I say in surprise. The look of confusion on my brother's face mirroring my own.

He holds closer gingerly assuming I had hurt something. Dad appears seconds later. The Man in the Yellow Suit scoffs, "this is why you are not my favorite!" He says, directing the comment towards my brother. "Don't worry, you still get a birthday gift, your birthday gift is to be the invisible man."

"What does that mean?" Carson asked, raising his eyebrows.

He smiles. "It's something you'll like. Trust me, and you are welcome by the way." He says, laughing to himself. He stops by the door. "Oh and one last piece of advice before I go." He looks directly at me. "Don't take James with you, that's not going to end well for anyone," he says in a serious, but dark tone before speeding off. The people in the room have stopped eating and there, staring at us with their mouths wide open. Dad goes to find the waitress to pay the bill. She waives the bill and tells us to get out of the restaurant...

"Are you okay?" Dad asks as he takes me carefully from Carson I nod. I am fine physically, this time he has left me with no new scars to show off. James helps to pull Carson up off the floor and we head towards the car. Carson and I are once again seated in the back of the car with James and my father upfront.

The second we are in the car Carson pulls out his laptop and starts typing "thank you for the save." I say to Carson even though I'm fairly sure I won't get his attention. He seems fairly engrossed in what ever he is looking at.

He is typing away, eyes darting from left to right like he's watching a ping-pong game. "I don't exist…" He murmurs, sounding like he is in shock.

"What?" I echo looking at him with confused curiosity. "What do you mean you don't exist?" I ask, moving closer to him.

He turns the laptop towards me in the search box, I see Carson Taylor and below that, the words no results found. "It's like all records of me have been erased."

"Even your criminal record?" I ask, with a hint of suspicion, he nods. "Let me try it on my phone." I suggest logging into the government servers with my credentials. "I don't get it. It's not there. What did you do?" I accuse him.

He looks at me stunned. " What I did nothing! I'm just as confused about this as you are!" My brother practically screams in protest.

"So, I am just supposed to that all records of your existence magically disappear, including **your criminal record** , six months after you break out of prison, yet you have nothing to do with it." I fire back, feeling bad being suspicious of him.

"He did say he would make me the invisible man." My brother says with little more than a shrug.

"Okay, so we're taking the word of a pathological lying sociopath as accurate now." I sigh, leaning against the back of my chair. I laugh. "That's great. That's where we are at this point."

"Are you okay?" Carson asks, leaning forward. I shake my head. "I know why you don't want him to be telling the truth." He pauses. I can feel his eyes studying my expression determining whether or not to continue. "Because if he is. That means there's a chance that he could be telling the truth about James and him knowing about your parents…" He stops short of saying the word clearly not wanting to continue with that train of thought because it is final.

I feel a lump forming in my throat . "He is… He is… He is telling the truth. James knew about my parents death and did nothing to try and stop it." I say quietly but devastatingly sure of the answer.

I see Carson's jaw drop out of the corner of my eye. "Mallory, how do you know, did he tell you? He questions cautiously putting his hand on my arm.

"No, but he didn't have to." I whisper, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Earlier today, we had a conversation about time travel and he said to me that there were some things he couldn't tell me because that would change the timeline. I take a deep breath. "The look on his face when he said it. The Man In The Yellow Suit, just confirmed it." I say, shaking my head. He gives me a hug. I move my jacket, which is right beside me. "There's also this." I hold the journal up to my brother. His eyes light up, clearly recognizing the object in my hands. "This is my birthday present." He nods, "but it is empty." I open the book and flipped through all the pages, proof that I'm not lying. "I write the book that The Man in the Yellow Suit uses to go back in time and kill grandma, kill my parents and break you out of prison."

"Oh my gosh, but wait, isn't that the same book that James use to ah Ha." Carson says, realizing how I know that The Man in the Yellow Suit is not lying. James pulls into the airport where I see that in private plane's waiting for us. "Being a good guy is so awesome!" Carson exclaims running up the ramp to claim his seat before anyone else! We all laugh as we board the plane and find that Carson has taken his seat by the window with a cup of coffee in his cupholder and that he has already plugged in his laptop, and synched it with the speakers which are now blasting _Fly Me to_ _the Moon_. "I thought we needed some mood music." Carson says nonchalantly, in response to the questioning look on our faces.

I make my way towards the back of the plane sitting down with a sigh as I stare out at the sunset filled sky. It is beautiful, A mixture of gold and orange and red as it reflects into a sea of deep blue. It is a breathtaking sight and reminder that life, although it may not be perfect, but it is beautiful. _Fill my heart with song and let me sing for evermore_ , that is my hope if I have to live forever. Please God, let me remember there are moments like this simple, perfect, beautiful moments.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Mallory," his voice asks me a wordless question. I look up and nod my head towards the unoccupied seat across from me, he takes it. His blue eyes looking troubled, he has a slight frown on his face. He is still James Anderson and I am still Mallory Allen. He puts his palms together arms resting on his knees. "About your parents…" He looks at me like he wants to say more. "I'm sorry… But I couldn't." He starts trying to figure out the best way to explain this. He is looking at the floor.

I put my hand on his knee , causing him to look up. "I know James," I whisper. "I know you couldn't stop it because it would disintegrate the timeline. I understand." I am searching trying to find a way to abslove him from the guilt.

He sighs, kissing me gently on the cheek. "Thank you, but this is still not the way I wanted you to find out." He says reflectively getting up to leave.

I catch his wrist. He looks back at me confused. "I know James you were doing what you had to do. Just like I will have to do what I am going to do." I say, pointing to the newer unwritten journal. James eyes it in shock. "But let's not talk about that for now." He eyes me questioningly. "For now I want you to help me enjoy this perfect moment." I say, gesturing to the spacious empty room that we have between seats.

James laughs. "You want to dance, but of course." He pulls me into the center of the room and we start to swing dance. "Mallory" he murmurs. Out of nowhere, catching me off guard. I nod. "If something should happen to me, you get the book." He says as he spins me.

"What?! Why are you telling me this now?" I ask highly confused and slightly panicked.

James turns me into a dip. "Nothing to worry about, darling, just a feeling." He says, although I am not sure I believe him entirely. He kisses once again but this time it's different. Something is off, it's almost like he's kissing me for the last time. "I love you, Mallory" he whispers, pulling me upright _, in other words, in other words, in other words I love you._ We look at each other, holding each other's gaze for as long as possible.

The sudden sound of applause shakes us free of that moment. "Well, that was just adorable!" Carson says continuing to applaud us. "I wish I could have what you two have with someone." He says wistfully, "all my ex-girlfriends are either on the run, in prison, or have had me arrested or some have done all three." He sighs. "Anyway, I came to tell you we're here. We made it. It's show time." He says with a giant enormous smile as he hits the next track button and Bob Seger's "I like that old-time rock 'n roll" blasts through the speakers as he slides down the steps of the plane.

I shrug and laugh as James and I walk out of the plane, following closely behind, my dad. The fact that we are holding hands seems to garner a lot of attention from the welcome wagon. The welcome wagon Caitlin, Cisco, Joe, and Dr. Wells. "Welcome back, super baby!" Cisco exclaims, clearly having thought out his place in the group thoroughly so that he could be the first one to greet me. He gives me a hug and then quickly turns to my father. "You've got to explain this whole super babies thing to me, there's two of them now?" Cisco says intrigued but confused.

Dad shuffles on his feet momentarily. "Yes, there are two of them apparently she had twins." He says, laughing slightly nervous. "He's somewhere here." Dad says searching for Carson, who he spots in a corner hugging the American flag and taking a selfie with it. "Carson!" Dad calls a flash of white lightning later and Carson appears. "Everyone. This is Carson Henry Allen and he is my son." Dad says introducing Carson to the family.

Everyone in the group has equally stunned expressions on their faces. "You're fast…" Grandpa exclaims, making everyone chuckle with him. "Sorry, but that's all I've got." Grandpa says jokingly. "Welcome to the family, Carson" grandpa steps forward to give him a hug. Grandpa peers over at dad during the hug. "Barry, Son, I love you but you are going to have to slow your roll I went from having zero grandkids to two in a week, so maybe cool your jets just a tiny bit." Grandpa says partially joking, but there is definitely a part of him that is serious.

"I don't know if anyone feels like I do right now, but I'm feeling a group hug! Come on everybody in, even you, James Bond!" Cisco exclaims, just putting his arms around grandpa. We all exchange questioning looks the nod and decide to roll with it. "Don't fight it just enjoy it." Cisco says, in response to some reluctance that he is experiencing. Eventually all of us give in,

That's when things started to go sideways. "Excuse me," a thick southern accent draws from behind me, causing me to turn around. "I'm very sorry to interrupt but I have some unfortunate business that I have to conduct" he lift his hat slightly to reveal his face, which is one I instantly recognize. Ryan Kane, son of Daniel Kane, director of the O. P. L. Y. M. P. U.S. taskforce. Unfortunately, Ryan Kane is not as charismatic, understanding, debonair or down to earth as his father. He's rich, he is entitled and he has the unfortunate misconception of thinking that he is irresistible.

"What are you doing here, Ryan?" I ask, leaning very heavily into my southern accent in an attempt to sound as cheerful as possible. I smile at him, hoping this will encourage him to tell me what is going on. you're probably wondering why I am even halfway confident that this will work. This is because the arrogant jerk believes that I love him.

He smiles slightly. "I'm sorry, Mallory, I really am." He then turns to the rest of the group, "every one who is not James Anderson can move back." We all quickly step back, somewhat reluctantly. Ryan pulls out his set of handcuffs. "James Anderson you are under arrest for treason against the United States of America. Anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney if you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you." He says, sounding like he is enjoying this a little bit too much.

I start to try and interfere when dad's arm stops me. James looks at me. "Let it happen it's okay" I feel something slip into my hand, the book "keep this for me." He says winking at me.

Suddenly several more agents appear to help escort him out of the building. "Why are you doing this?" I yell, which causes Ryan to turn around and walk back towards me. "Why are you doing this?" I whisper my voice is still wavering with intense fury.

He looks at me for a second "I'm sorry, Mallory, I really am. But I'm following orders as I'm sure you understand." He says, sounding genuine for the second time in his life since I've known him.

"I understand, " I say firmly. "I know that, I'm asking you, who the orders came from, and why did they give you them." I say, clarifying my question.

He looks at me. "I think we both know where our orders come from." I nod, he continues, "as for why I think you know the answer to that question, you just don't want to admit it to yourself because you don't want to have to face the fact that sometimes ulterior motives can be used in decision-making." He says, somewhat condescending somewhat realistically.

I know what this is about. Perhaps I've always known what this is about, perhaps I've been spending the last four months, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps I've always known the risk always known that this was coming. That's the trouble with being immortal, isn't it? Thinking that you have more time before life catches up with you or people outsmart you , only to realize that you are driving at the same speed as everyone else only your path is continuous! "Order sixty-four" I breathe out as the realization of the sick cat and mouse game that they are playing with me comes in to clear, crisp, and precise focus.

He nods slightly, looking like the idea upsets him as much as it does me, "you really should have signed that piece of paper." He says , slightly empathic . Before turning around and starting to walk away. "The President and my father would like to speak to you next week." He calls not looking back. Okay, that's great. So next week, the President and Director Kane would like to play, let's make a deal. I have a feeling that it will be hard to tell what are the sticks and what are the carrots.

We go home and get ready for bed. I come into the living room where dad, grandpa, and Carson are waiting for me. "Do you want to tell us what Order Sixty-Four is or are we just going to pretend we heard nothing." Dad asks, all of them, staring at my face intently.

Deep breath, "Order Sixty-Four is a legal contract between the United States Government and myself, it was drafted by the Department of Justice and Department of Defense and ratified by Congress in response to my then newly discovered immortality."

"Immortality?!" Dad exclaims, right, I hadn't mentioned that to him yet, opps!

Grandpa looks over at Barry. "You're really questioning that after all we've seen tonight?" Grandpa asks, Dad nods. "I was just going to roll with it," he says proudly, Dad shrugs signaling that I can continue.

Before I can however Carson joins the conversation. "I knew that Mallory was immortal," dad and grandpa both look at him for several seconds and back up at me. "She told me well, not on purpose. It was more like an accidental thing, but I knew that she okay continue," Carson says finally realizing that we have been derailed off the track that we were originally on.

"Okay, so does the contract was that I would serve as a spy/soldier/assassin/insert job title here for the United States government, regardless of the administration, actions, or time passed since signing the contract. So basically forever, and I can only act/go/do in accordance to when where and how the government sees fit." I say, giving them a very quick simplified rundown of the basics.

"So basically, like a puppet for the US government." My brother says in disgust.

"More or less. I say sighing he gives me a serious eye roll. "Probably more," I close my eyes and bite my lower lip. "Definitely more!" I open my eyes to see the look of disgust on his face growing. "If you think that is bad, you're going to love this part," I say, not able to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the situation anymore. "As part of the agreement," I pause for dramatic effect. "They were going to loan me to our allies if they wanted me!" The expressions of disbelief, disgust and pure amazement increase tenfold.. "They were going to turn me into Rent-A-Spy, for all your questionable government needs!" I say jokingly, which makes them smile and frown at the same time.

"I'm guessing by the tone in your voice and how smart you are in general that you did not sign the contract." Grandpa says, looking like he wants to tell someone to go pound sand! I nod, "good girl," he smiles at me slightly to show approval. "By the display of power that they showed at the airport I'm guessing they weren't too happy with your decision." My grandpa muses with a slight laugh.

I reluctantly nod my head in the affirmative direction. "Yes, you could say that my refusal was taken less than stellar. A majority of senators and intelligence community officials called my refusal "un-American and a travesty." Some of the more vocal members of the opposition even talked about forcing me to do it as it was part of my civic duty." I have to take a nether deep breath to keep my emotions in check. "Pres. Obama accepted my refusal though, and said I had a choice in whether or not, I signed the document." I say, explaining further . "He prevented any further action taken against me. Which was good for his approval ratings, considering that I was in the hospital at the time and bad for his political favors, considering that he went against the vast majority of people in politics in Washington." I express the unintended consequences of my decision and the president's decision to protect it.

"Why would he change his opinion?!" Carson muses to me appearing very intrigued by the recent development.

I sigh, "he is in the final two years of his second presidential term, which means the focus has shifted less on to the public opinion, and more on getting as much of his agenda written into law as possible as quickly as possible, which requires a lot of political clout…" I say, trailing off wanting to make the implication open to interpretation..

Carson seems to be working through what I just said very methodically. "He needs political clout, so he is using you as a peace offering?"

That word is harsh, "no, I don't think he personally ordered an investigation into James to force me to sign the agreement." I pause, "I think he took out a lighter stance on the issue, which caused one of the Congressman to investigate James in hopes of getting me to sign the stupid contract."

"I think it's time that all of us get to bed, before we go any farther down that rabbit hole tonight." Dad says, I reluctantly nod in agreement. All four of us begin to make the journey upstairs. Dad places me in my bed and sits on the edge. "Don't worry, Mallory, everything is going to be fine." He whispers gently getting up and kissing me on the cheek. I reciprocate. "I love you." Dad says as he closes the door and turns on the light _. Everything is going to be all right?_ That's what my dad said to me, but I have to wonder if he knew the half of what I do, would he say the same thing?

There is no hope of going to sleep if I don't have something to keep my mind off of, well, everything! I grab my iPod from the nightstand on the left put in the earphones, and select the only song that brings back any kind of positive memories and place it on a loop, rollover and stare out the window.

 _Moon River, wider than a mile._

 _I'm crossing you in style._

 _Someday_

 _Oh dream maker, you heartbreaker!_

 _Wherever you are going. I'm going your way!_

 _Two drifters, off to see the world._

 _There is such a lot of world to see!_

 _We're after the same rainbows and waiting round the bend._

 _Where do I begin?_

 _Moon River and me!_

I eventually am able to fall asleep.


End file.
